


See You Earlier!

by VenomQuill



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Dipper and Mabel needed a legitimate reason to use the time tape/place watch, Gen, Gore warning tapers off past the first chapter, Major blood in the first chapter, Monsterfalls AU - Freeform, Set post "Fiddleford quits the project", Set post "The Last Mabelcorn", Stanley and Stanford flashbacks, Swearing, timestuck au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2017-11-17
Packaged: 2019-01-08 07:56:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 55,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12250224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VenomQuill/pseuds/VenomQuill
Summary: Dipper found a magical stream that turns people into monsters. Everyone but him and his great uncles are human again. Dipper is determined to find a way to reverse this curse... by going back in time. Both Dipper and Mabel are thrown back to different sides of the continental United States. In order to go back home, they must find each other and fix the broken time tape. Luckily, they find their great uncle... only his hair isn't gray... and he has a mullet.Set in both Monsterfalls and Timestuck, though this fic explores the Timestuck plot rather than the Monsterfalls plot.





	1. When Are We?

**Author's Note:**

> Find the title card on dA: http://fav.me/dbpf4em

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dipper and Mabel find themselves fighting over the time travel machine, going through time and space in their struggle. But, after one terrible mistake, they're both plunged into a world where they find out that one terrible mistake could mean the end. Or, could it mean the beginning?

_Dipper_

Dipper stumbled in his landing, four legs splaying to catch himself. Where were they? He sneezed to attempt to rid his nose of the salty 1862 California air. He looked about and then sighed. “Oh, good. We’re back in Oregon. …right?”

Mabel stood up straight and looked about. “Uh… well… oh! I remember those squirrels!” She pointed up. Her grimace had been replaced with a large grin. Above them, two squirrels chattered together. “I’m an amazing matchmaker.”

“Uh, yeah. Let’s go back to the Mystery Shack. Hopefully we’re back in our time.” Dipper, still clutching the time machine, hopped forward. Mabel turned her attention on him and followed. Despite not paying attention to where she put her feet, she was able to follow without hindrance. Dipper watched where he was going. He occasionally dipped his head to avoid having his hat, or tiny stubs that would soon be antlers, getting caught on the trees.

Then, he stopped.

Dipper froze. His tail flipped up and ears perked. Mabel stopped beside him, her grin replaced by an expression of confusion. “Uh… what? What’s wrong?”

Dipper didn’t move. He looked about and rotated his ears and took deep breaths through his nose to sense his surroundings. “I hear something,” he mumbled. He whipped his head back so quick his neck hurt. The shadows behind them shifted. Bluegrass music, quiet but sharp, rang through the woods. Two eyes, deep blue ringed red, glared at them. “RUN!” His hooves were off the ground before the thought came to him to scream.

Mabel screamed and ran after him.

Although Mabel moved fast, Dipper was faster. His long bounds, sleek muscles, and aerodynamic body pushed him through the forest faster than Mabel’s small body could. He launched himself off thin roots, stuck landings on small rocks, and slid between gaps in the trees. Mabel was slowed as she had to get around the trees, land on solid ground, and occasionally crush branches or small roots in her way. Dipper hesitated only to let Mabel hop onto his back. Then, he was off like a bullet.

The cackling, mangle-toothed creature that followed them sprinted through the brush and trees like a goshawk’s shadow. There was no way the Kill Billy could catch up to his juvenile, male prey. But the young female was not out of the question. Mabel cried in fear as the creature launched itself off a particularly large root, flew through a gap in the trees, and extended his spindly arms and clawed fingers at her. She grabbed the first thing she could hold–her bag–and swung. The thing shrieked and tumbled as he got a face full of glittery bag. He tumbled and shakily got on all fours. Then, he stood up and let out a large howl with grunts and hamboning to match. Another one of the things appeared before them. It clung to a branch and waited for its speeding prey to come closer.

“DIPPER!” Mabel yelled. “ABOVE YOU!”

Dipper looked up and let out a loud, crying bleat before changing direction. Mabel glared at the creature and took out her flashlight. The creature snarled in pain as the bright light hurt its eyes. The creature slunk back and glared at them as they passed. It grunted and hamboned as well. A third appeared. Only after the third time they changed direction did they realize they were being herded. “DIPPER, WATCH OUT!”

Dipper scrambled to slow himself down. Below them, the cliff of the valley fell. Miraculously, Dipper stopped just shy of the cliff. One hoof fell off the edge. Rocks and dirt defected and fell. Mabel slipped off of him and nearly fell. Dipper grabbed her and helped her take a step back. They couldn’t celebrate their victory for long as one of the beasts, a few teeth broken and others knocked out, lunged at Dipper with a cry of victory. They ducked. The thing jumped clean over them, flailing its hands as it tried to get a grip, before falling off the cliff. Dipper screamed and stumbled forward. Blood gushed out of a rip in his hindquarters. More of the fiends lined up, ready to kill their prey one way or the other. The kids stumbled straight off the cliff. Mabel grabbed his watch and pulled the time tape. “We need to go back to Grunkle Stan!”

_Snap! Vrrp!_

…

The time tape slipped out of her hands.

Mabel and Dipper landed on hard concrete in the dark of night. Mabel groaned and put a hand on her head. Her head had slammed into the wooden fence at the back of the alleyway they were in. She couldn’t see a foot in front of her! Dipper, whimpering, lay beneath her. Blood pooled under his flank. He hissed and whimpered as the unsanitary floor beneath him burned the rips in his lower flank.

“Dipper!” she breathed.

Mabel abandoned the time tape, which had hit the brick wall as her fingers slipped. “Oh no, oh no, oh no!” she whimpered and took his hand. “We have to get you back!” Mabel looked back at the broken time tape. “Oh no!” She let go of Dipper and grabbed the thing. She plucked the broken bits off the ground and shoved them in her bag.

Dipper opened his eyes and tried tapping the watch. “Grunkle Ford…” His shaky, weak fingers didn’t do him justice. “Gravity Falls, Oregon,” he wheezed.

“ _Gravity Falls, Oregon,_ ” the watch beeped back.

Mabel turned around. “Dipper? OH NO! WAIT!” She tried to grab his arm.

_Vrrrp!_

Dipper huffed as he appeared a foot above the leafy ground and plopped onto a pile of autumn leaves and stray branches. The burning pain from his right flank, just above his back leg, was _excruciating._ He tried to look around, but the tears that blurred his vision and the blood loss that confused his mind and the horrible pain blinded him. “Help!” Dipper did the only thing he knew best. “Help! Someone, help!” His cries weakened. He flopped down, his fingers going slack. “Mabel? Mabel? Someone? Anyone…! Help…! Please…”

 

_Mabel_

A burst of light flashed and engulfed the dark alley before dimming.

Mabel held an arm over her eyes to combat the glare. She blinked the stars out of her eyes and looked about. “It didn’t work?” She looked down. A pool of blood and a blue and white baseball cap was all that remained of her brother. “No, Dipper.”

Mabel walked over to the pool of blood and slipped. She yelped as she landed hard on the ground. Mabel shook herself off and scrambled to her feet. She plucked the hat off the ground. Tears glimmered in her chocolate eyes. “D-Dipper?” she squeaked. Nope. This wasn’t happening. This was _not_ happening. Mabel shut her eyes. Nope. This was a bad dream. If she thought on it hard enough, she’d be somewhere else. She could dream about Gravity Falls.

Mabel opened one eye. She gasped and shut it again. Okay, so, she couldn’t dream up Gravity Falls. That was okay. You probably can’t change dreams anyway. But she could wake up! Yeah! Mabel pinched herself and winced. Ow. Okay, she was strong.

Mabel opened one eye.

Oh no.

Mabel took a deep breath. “Come on, don’t freak out. Dipper’s in Gravity Falls. All you have to do is go there. It’s not like he could be any _time_ else. You have the time thingy! Yep! So, all you have to do is find out where you are, and when you are, and find a way back to Gravity Falls. Yep! That should be easy! Just go outside and, uh, find a newspaper. Yeah. People have newspapers back in forever, right?”

Mabel took a deep breath, stuffed the hat in her bag, and walked further into the alley. After all, she didn’t trust that wooden fence. It was probably covered in splinters, which would be fun, normally, but not now. The thought of getting splinters stuck in her fingers made Mabel waver in step.

 _“Check out all my splinters!”_ she had laughed months ago. Dipper had looked at her splinter-covered fingers and then back to his bed, where he’d been greeted by a goat. Later, Mabel found that splinters weren’t so fun to have, especially when trying to use your fingers. Dipper had sat her down and plucked each one out of her fingers. He’d recoil and drop each one, trying desperately not to look at the smudges of blood some of the deeper or bigger ones had. Halfway through one hand, Grunkle Stan had approached them to investigate the source of Mabel’s whimpering and Dipper’s gasping.

Grunkle Stan, after some sort of internal debate, shooed Dipper away with a gruff _“You gotta stop being such a wimp. Lemme show you how it’s done.”_

Mabel shook the memory away. No! she had to focus on the task at hand. Mabel looked up. She had to just–

Mabel stopped. Her surroundings were darker and littered with more trash. There were side alleys and all types of places to go. Where had she just come from? Where should she go from here…? There should be a way. Yeah, there’s always a way. Mabel just had to stay positive and everything would turn out alright. So, Mabel puffed out her chest and marched into the first alleyway she found. This was definitely the way. It had to be. This was, by far, one hundred percent, certifiably, completely and totally the way to–

Mabel screamed as a shadow lurched forward and grabbed her sweater.

 

_Stanford_

Stanford jumped so badly he dropped the journal in his hands. Outside, in the cooling Autumn forest, a young cry rang through the howling wind. He turned his attention to the front door immediately. Whatever was outside was loud and in a lot of pain. Even in this sleep deprived, prickly, paranoid state he was in, he could understand pain and fear in one’s voice.

At first, Stanford tried to ignore it. The morbid thought of it tapering off soon enough disgusted him, but reassured him. There was no need to- _“…one, help!”_ Stanford gritted his teeth and shut his eyes. Just a little bit longer. He couldn’t risk going outside, not now. Not when there was a shape-shifter on the loose and not when Bill’s minions could creep up on him any second. _“Mabel? Mabel?”_ Now it was calling out for someone it knew… _“Someone? Anyone…!”_ God, it didn’t even have that. _“Help…! Please…”_

Stanford shoved himself away from his table. Grabbing his loaded crossbow as he went, he snapped open the door. On the ground, merely feet from his door, lay a monster. The first thing he noticed was how childlike the top half looked. He was a boy, eleven perhaps. His bottom half was a deer whose pelt was littered with white dots. Tiny little stubs popped out of his head. He was a _baby._ More than that, he was pale. The leaves and grass bent as hot, scarlet blood bathed the ground.

Just the sight made him sick. Stanford ran forward and met the boy. Even if he was one of Bill’s minions, he was too injured to attack. The shape-shifter possessed green blood, not red. Even when in a different form, the shape-shifter couldn’t change its blood color. Stanford set his hand on the boy’s shoulder. It was cooler than it should be. The boy let out a small bleat and looked up at him. His eyes opened a bit more upon seeing him. He could swear he saw the faintest bit of a relieved smile. Then, his eyes started to close.

 _“Shit!”_ Stanford spat and ran inside. He grabbed the first thing he saw–a spare lab coat that once belonged to his best friend–and ran out again. The lab coat soaked up blood and trapped it close to the boy’s skin. Stanford hooked his arms under the boy’s deer shoulders, one arm under his human portion and the other under his deer portion. Oh, dear _God_ he was heavy.

Nonetheless, Stanford dragged the heavily bleeding, barely conscious boy inside. He shut the door behind himself and grabbed a towel, first aid kit, and extra, more complicated medical material from the bathroom and closet nearby. He wasted no time in getting to work on healing the dying boy. He could worry about the boy’s allegiance later. If he was a minion of Bill’s, Stanford could kill him easily. If he was an injured baby monster and Stanford didn’t save him, he’d just have yet another regret laying on his shoulders.

 

_Stanley_

Stanley shoved his hands in his dirty jacket. His boots crunched over broken glass and hard plastic. His duffle bag stayed over his shoulder. He kept his head down and didn’t mind his surroundings. Though, under the shadow of his hood, his dark eyes flicked from place to place. His mind dreamed up a dozen scenarios of how each little thing could turn around and bite him. Thieves, muggers, Rico’s goons- he wasn’t above thinking of the possibility of a feral dog jumping out of nowhere and giving him a nasty bite or rabies. After all, Stan _had_ just struck oil with his latest endeavor involving a local pizzeria, some tourists, and a glass eye as well as a good wad of cash.

He was snapped out of his paranoid thoughts by a scream. This wasn’t a tame scream, not one of a person being frightened by a spider or kids running amok on the streets. This was of a little girl, young and commanding a loud voice, scared.

Stanley’s legs moved with a mind of their own. He took one hand out to keep his bag from slipping away. Behind a rundown thrift store, a vibrant girl was being handled by a straggly old rat. He recognized this man. He was a thief; a vulture. He stalked people who struck it big or had few ties and would steal bits and pieces from them- things that were small, easily forgettable. A candy bar here, some pocket change there, a cheap-o ring or a rag. But he’d never been so ambitious or bold as to steal a five-dollar-bill, much less a child.

She thrashed and fought viciously. It was a bit impressive she was holding out against a man twice her size but probably her weight. Still, the girl was, what, twelve? Stanley stepped forward. “Hey!”

The rat jolted and then grunted as the girl’s fist came down on him _hard._ Upon realizing he was cornered not only by prey that could fight back, but a good-sized man probably old enough to be her father, he raced off.

The girl rubbed her hand and, after shooting a glare at the man, turned to Stanley. He could tell the exact moment she saw his face. Her agitated, pained fear quickly turned into one of shock. Her mouth agape and eyes wide, Stanley might have found it amusing if she didn’t take that scared, cornered look as well.

Stanley knelt. She didn’t move. “It’s okay, kid. Uh… what are you doing here?” The girl fumbled over her words for a bit. Stanley’s hood shifted in a slight breeze. “Oh! Oh, right. Hehe.” He pulled down his hood and smiled at her. “Better?”

The girl looked him over. Her eyes inevitably fell over the “scar” crossing the left side of his face. She blurted out, “Who are you?”

Interesting question, but inevitable. “My name is Andrew,” he greeted, trying his best to give her a winning smile, something that would calm her nerves a bit. _How old was this kid?_ “And, uh, what’s your name?”

She looked him over before replying, “I’m Mabel.” Then, as if the very mention of her name changed her entire outlook on everything ever, tears welled up in those great puppy eyes of hers. She hunched her shoulders like a turtle trying to escape into a glittery purple sweater.

Stan lost his smile. “Uh! Um, hey, it’s okay kid. I, uh, won’t hurt you.” Kids liked hearing that, right? Then again, anyone could say that, even predators, so he probably shouldn’t- “Oof!” Stanley huffed and tensed as the girl launched herself at him and wrapped her little arms around him. She couldn’t reach far being as small as she was. Tears came in earnest and she sniffled. Stanley looked down at her and hooked an arm around her. “Hey, uh, kiddo. It’s alright. Hey, where are your parents, anyway?”

“Parents?” she mumbled as if the word was part of some sort of foreign language. There was a bit of hesitation before she answered in a voice chipped by a hiccup. “Not, uh… not here.”

“Not here?”

Mabel nodded, her fingers tightening their grip on his jacket. “C… California.”

“California?” he echoed. “What are you doin’ all the way over in Mississippi, Mabel?”

The girl took a shaky breath. Saying her name relaxed her a bit more. “I-I-I l-left.”

 _Left?_ A sparkly little girl _left?_ Then, somehow, ended up in a dark alleyway in Mississippi almost being abducted by some sick cretin? He tried to let go, perhaps to look her in the eyes or assess the damage done to her. She let go of him and looked up into his eyes with those big puppy eyes of hers. God, those big eyes, watery and round, could get her places if she so chose. “Why don’t we go outside? This place is starting to give me the creeps, huh?”

The girl nodded. Then, as he stood up, took him by the hand. She wiped her eyes and gave him a small smile. This little girl was so trusting. Any sicko in a van could drive by and talk to her nicely and she’d be gone, just like that.

It was then he noticed the blood on her leg.

He sucked in his breath. “Hey, sweet-heart. Are you hurt?”

She looked up at him and shook his head. She looked down at her leg, then. Fresh tears welled up in her eyes. She shook her head violently and pressed up against his leg. “Not mine.” The words were so quiet he hardly heard them. _Not mine?_ She looked just fine, for the most part. Her hands were dirty and muck stuck to her little shoes. Her little bag had a few twigs stuck in it. But blood swathed against her leg. He hadn’t seen so much blood since he himself got a nasty blade to his leg and was left for dead on the side of the road. What had this girl been through?

He nodded her head toward the back of the old thrift store and led her out. They took one corner and soon enough they were in the late afternoon crowd. She wiped off her eyes and looked at the crowd around her. Stanley turned so that her bloody leg faced the wall rather than the crowd. He’d rather not get people spooked. He already looked like he could be a predator, dirty as he was and _relatively_ clean as she was. Not to mention the police didn’t trust him. That and having a bloody leg and red-ringed eyes would only make it worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eyy! Sorry I was so rude to Dipper, but it was one of the only way I could get Stanford to "trust" Dipper. Notice how I put it in quotations because Stanford literally doesn't trust anyone. Also, I thought it would be better for Stanley to trust her if he saved her from being kidnapped. It helps that her leg is bloody... and she's half-way across the country... and she is still wearing a sparkly sweater. Dipper automatically trusts his great uncle, no matter what. Since he didn't _see_ his great uncle or his surroundings really, Dipper has no reason to worry. Mabel clings to people she knows. She's still twelve. They both are.
> 
> Also, I hate writing about Bill. I also don't like Bill or Stanford, but I'm trying my best to write them appropriately. Please don't hurt me. Haha
> 
> Also, also: I actually started writing this after being inspired by thesnadger's ["Five Minute's Older"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4873306/chapters/11172196). I hero-worship this person. Thesnadger is awesome.


	2. Wherever You Are, Please Be Okay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It seems Dipper has finally met Stanford and Mabel found her way to Stanley. Dipper's tragically injured with no ability to run and Stanford is tragically injured with no place to turn.

_Dipper_

Dipper was warm.

The first thing he could tell as he woke up was how… not cold he was. Dipper tried to move, but grimaced and shuttered. Pain burned in his lower right flank. It wasn’t as severe as it had been the last time he was conscious, but it wasn’t good.

He opened his eyes and pulled his aching head up. The room he was in was a mess of things. Gadgets, gismos, machines large and small, and diagrams cluttered the room. The warm smell of nature couldn’t penetrate the young cabin’s defenses. Dipper got up on one elbow. He looked back. Bandages wrapped around his lower flank and upper leg at the hip. Soft pink bloomed along small paths the claw marks had taken. Currently, he was on his side with his legs splayed to the side. Dipper pushed himself up and grunted as he disturbed the stitches in his wounds. His front legs came up and folded under his chest. He left his back legs alone.

The frazzled man who owned the house stalked into the messy storage space Dipper was in. Dipper froze, ears forward and tail flipped up. His eyes met the deep brown ones of his great uncle. Wait… what? That wasn’t… he was… Stanford was supposed be in his sixties! Right now he didn’t look over thirty.

Then, Stanford was by his side.

Dipper yelped as he was taken roughly by the back of the head and a bright light was shined in his eyes. Dipper reflexively pushed him away and kicked his legs.

“Whoa! Whoa!” Stanford turned off the light and let go. “I’m sorry. I just had to make sure… uh… what’s your name?”

Dipper put a hand on his head. He took a few deep breaths, just like future Great Uncle Ford told him to do when he taught him to control his fear. He looked up at the man in question. “M-my name is Dipper. Uh… what’s yours?”

Stanford looked the boy over. After a moment’s hesitation, he answered in a tight voice, “Stanford. What are you doing here, Dipper? What injured you?”

Dipper forced himself to relax. Okay, so, Great Uncle Ford told him his name. That was good, right? “My sister and I were attacked by Kill Billies,” Dipper admitted. “One of them clawed me.” He perked up. “Wait! Was my sister there? Looks kinda like me but a human? Long, wavy hair and a sweater?”

Stanford shook his head. “No, it was only you. How did you get into my yard?”

Dipper hesitated. “Uh…? I… don’t really remember.” _Dipper used the teleportation device to go to Gravity Falls. But…_ “I don’t remember much after getting attacked. She should be here, though. Mabel has to be here.”

A look of recognition passed over the man. “Mabel? The name you called when you were injured. That’s your sister’s name?”

Dipper nodded, a smile coming to him. “Yeah! That’s her!”

Stanford frowned. “She wasn’t there, Dipper.”

Dipper lost his smile. His eyebrows furrowed and he scrunched his nose. That couldn’t be right. Mabel had to be there. She _had_ to be with them. She had hooked her arm around his shoulders and grabbed his wrist as they’d fallen off the cliff. _“Dipper! OH NO! WAIT!”_ Mabel’s scream echoed in Dipper’s head and made his blood run cold. He had been in an immense amount of pain and shock. He could hardly move, hardly speak. He _needed_ to get back to the Shack. He couldn’t even tell he was leaving his own sister behind in God-knows-where _alone._ All alone with only the time machine. Now he was stuck with an extremely paranoid version of his great uncle, injured. She didn’t even have that. _“Mabel, wherever you are, please be okay.”_

 

_Mabel_

_“Dipper, wherever you are, please be okay.”_ Mabel stared straight ahead, struggling between losing herself in her thoughts and paying attention to where she was going. Stan’s hand enveloped hers. She could feel his anxiety. She looked up at him. It was as if he’d just walked out of one of those fake ID’s he kept hidden. How long had he been this “Andrew” person, anyway? Long enough to need a change in ID? Short enough to have just been another person? Was he ready to run away from Mississippi, or had he just gotten here? “Do you live here?” Mabel surprised herself with the question.

He looked down at her. “Oh, uh, no. No, I’m just passing through. What about you, kiddo? How’d you find yourself passing through?”

Mabel kicked a stone she came across. “Um… I dunno.” _Mabel, you seriously need to get your head in the game. If you’re going to find Dipper, you have to be strong and… Gravity Falls… Grunkle Ford! Dipper would definitely go to Grunkle Ford._

Stan didn’t seem satisfied with the answer, but if he had any real qualms–qualms. Heh sounds like quails–about it, he didn’t show it. “Why don’t we get you washed up, huh?”

Mabel grinned. “Okay!” Okay, as much as this place scared her, a shower sounded _awesome!_ Wait… she didn’t have a change of clothes.

Stan smiled down at her and looked ahead. “Well, it’s not going to be anything fancy.”

“Not anything fancy” was an understatement. Stan found one of the smaller gas stations with single-person bathrooms. Still, it got the job done. She washed off Dipper’s blood from her leg and the awful muck from her face, hands, and anything else. She used a wet paper towel to clean off her shoes. Then, after a quick bathroom break, she met Stan outside. Despite being a bit uncomfortable and taking a while, being clean made everything infinitely better. She also got to get rid of those red racoon rings on her face.

She took Stan’s hand and, a small skip in her step, followed him. He was a bit cleaner, too, it seemed- at least his face and hands. The rest of him was still covered in dirty clothes and unwashed hair. “You took a bath, too!”

Stan chuckled. “Yeah, well, my hands were a bit dirty, anyway. ’Couldn’t make you wash your hands again because of me, eh?”

Mabel giggled and looked about. “What now?”

She didn’t need to look up to see the man’s smile waver. Oops. “Well, I was just about to go grab something to eat. How does that sound?”

Oh, yeah. Lunch. They’d forgotten to get lunch before- er, right. She was hungry. Mabel nodded. “Oh! Yeah!”

The man chuckled. Phew. “Well, we can’t go anywhere fancy. _But_ I think we can get us a few burgers. How’s that sound?”

Hmm… hamburgers… how did she feel about hamburgers? “Okay!”

“Hamburgers it is!” he announced.

Hamburgers it sure was. Mabel skipped under a bright yellow awning that led to the restaurant. As they stood in line, Stan indicated the menu above them. “Now, think about what you’ll have. Don’t go crazy on me, now.”

Mabel gave him a swift nod. “I am certifiably _not_ crazy.”

“Well good! I was worried there you might be certifiably crazy,” Stan joked, causing Mabel to laugh.

Mabel got up on her tip-toes and clung to the edge of the counter once they got in front. The woman behind the counter finished whatever she was doing and looked up at him. She put on a grand smile, though it seemed a little fake considering what the man she was talking with looked like. “What would you have for today, sir?”

“I’ll, uh, take a regular cheeseburger,” Stan answered. “With pickles, ketchup, mayo, mustard, and tomato. And fries. You?” He looked down at Mabel.

“One hamburger, please! With ketchup and mayo and fries,” Mabel announced.

“Would you like a drink with that?” the woman asked as she punched in their order.

“Two smalls.”

“For here or to go?”

“…for here.”

“Your number is 715. Your order will be ready soon.” The cash register spat out a ticket and she handed it to them.

“Wee-oop!” Mabel followed Stan to the small crowd a few feet away.

“Seven-fifteen, eh? You think that many people come here?” Stan prompted.

“They probably count everyone ever,” Mabel theorized.

It wasn’t that long before they got their orders, took a few drinks, and got to sit down. Mabel plopped down in a chair across from him and took out her burger. As soon as she unwrapped it, she took off the top bun and stuffed a few fries inside before setting it down again.

Stan, having already taken a big bite out of his own hamburger, raised an eyebrow at her meal. “I think you’re taking ‘burger and fries’ too literally there, kid.”

“I think you’re taking ‘burger and fries’ too unliterally,” Mabel answered and, to accent her point, took a big bite out of the modified meal.

“You sure you’re not crazy?”

“Yep! You sure you’re not crazy?”

Stan leveled his hand. “Maybe.”

“You’re eating pickles. Of course, you’re crazy,” Mabel pointed out.

“You’re eating fries in your burger. Of course, you’re crazy,” Stan reciprocated, unable to shake off the grin he’d adopted.

Mabel took another bite out of her burger. She was almost half-way done. Stan probably had another bite or two left.

 

_Stanford_

Stanford tried to sit still at his table, but it wasn’t working. He found himself pacing the length of the kitchen, wringing his hands. Any time he sat down, he just got up again. In his storage room, he heard a tiny bleat and a short shuffle. Stanford tried not to react to harshly to it, but it was hard. That boy was an unfamiliar monster with unfamiliar origins that somehow got through all his defenses. That boy was just a _baby._ He didn’t have horns and he still had spots and he still had that rounded, chubby face.

Stanford’s gaze fell on the neglected fridge. Stanford hadn’t eaten in a while. He rarely had the thought to since his nerves usually quelled any hunger he had. In fact, he got nauseas on more than one occasion. The human body was both a fascinating and frustrating thing. Still, that boy… he should eat. Yes, that’s what people do. Children need to eat.

Stanford made a bee-line to the fridge and shuffled through it. He managed to take out a head of lettuce that looked to be on its last legs. He had some canned beans somewhere. He didn’t like to eat them, not anymore. Not now that any time he tried to eat them he’d remember sitting by a campfire, nose in his journal, a hot bowl of beans nearby, listening to the banjo…

Stanford shut the fridge door and took out a plate. The boy could eat lettuce. That was fine. He was most likely herbivorous, anyway, so he wouldn’t be able to eat anything else. Probably.

After ripping apart some of the lettuce and sticking the rest back into the fridge, Stanford walked back into the storage room. Dee- Dipper’s ears flipped forward and his tail flicked up. Upon recognizing Stanford, the boy relaxed and looked at the food Stanford had. Stanford glanced down at it and then the boy. “You, uh, need to eat. I don’t know what food you eat so here.”

The boy gently took the plate from him and smiled. “Thank you, Gr- Stanford!”

“Er, yes. What type of foods do you normally eat?” Stanford’s voice was tight and uneven.

The boy picked up a leaf of lettuce. “Um… Lettuce and fruits and vegetables and stuff.”

“As I thought. Okay. Where are your parents?”

Dipper, halfway through eating that leaf of lettuce, hesitated. He bit it in half, lowered his hand, and stared at the green thing rather than meet Stanford’s gaze. “My parents are in California. M-my sister and I were just staying in Oregon for the summer.”

“So, your people live in California, then?” Stanford prompted.

“My people?” Dipper looked up. “O-oh! Oh no! I, uh, I’m not actually a monster. I was cursed. I’ve been looking for a cure. Mabel and I were separated, uh, looking for it.”

“Something cursed you?” Stanford’s cool, clipped thought and speech wavered a bit. There was no mention of a _curse._

“Magic water. I drank some magic water and it turned me into a deer kid.” He shrugged and looked down at his lunch again. He inspected an old leaf. “It wasn’t anything more than that, though. I’ve been trying to find the cure.” His ears flicked forward and his eyes went round. He looked up at Stanford. “Whoa, wait! If you’ve never heard of this curse before, that must mean no one here’s been effected. That must mean the stream isn’t even here!”

“Magic water from a stream turned you into this? Who else was effected?”

“Everyone!” Dipper exclaimed. “Absolutely everyone! I drank from the stream and then brought it home. Mabel and Grunkle- our Grunkle, Wendy, and Soos all drank it. Well, Soos got it spilled on him. Our Grunkle sold the water to everyone before we knew it was cursed and then everyone was cursed! Then our _other_ great uncle shows up and he’s the only one who didn’t touch or drink the water. And then he purposefully drank the water himself. Then, a little while ago, people just started randomly turning back into humans. My great uncles and I are some of the only monster-people left.”

Stanford stared at the boy and thought over his words. Everyone in his community had been cursed and then they turned back into humans for unknown reasons…? “What made everyone else turn into humans?”

Dipper sighed. “I don’t know! That’s what I’m trying to figure it! Even my sister turned back into a human. She was a mermaid before all of this.” He huffed, “Now I’m stuck here and hurt and I don’t know where Mabel is and I don’t know where anyone else is and…” Dipper cut himself off as his words became shaky. Stanford watched as Dipper’s frustration melted into heartbreaking realization.

_Jesus._ What was he supposed to do? He couldn’t let the boy wallow in misery like that. Yet, what _could_ he do? Stanford was never good with people, especially not children. He was an analytical scientist who dealt with cold hard facts. The one who was always good around other people, children especially, had been Fiddleford. He drove _him_ away, too. “Dipper, once you’re fully healed, I’m sure you’ll be able to find your sister.”

Dipper didn’t comment. Instead, he resumed eating.

Stanford took this opportunity to leave.

 

_Stanley_

Mabel gnawed on the French fries that had been provided. She was a weird little kid alright. Funny, cute- how’d she end up so far away from home? What kind of parents would let a little sweet-heart like _her_ go off on her own halfway across the country? Stanley’s smile dimmed a bit as he thought back on her parents. Who were her parents, anyway? Why had she been covered in blood of all things? She didn’t seem to have any bruises and if she was cut she didn’t show it. Then again, she was wearing a sweater… in July…

He was snapped out of his thoughts as Mabel pouted at him. Upon being recognized, she grinned. “I betcha I can keep a spoon on my nose longer!”

“Is that a challenge?” Stanley prompted, his smile now matching hers.

“Yep!” Mabel jumped up and ran off. She came back wielding two spoons. “Winner gets to, uh, boast and loser wallows in shame for all eternity.”

Stanley took the spoon from her and put a finger to his chin. “Hmm… I’m willing to take that bet. Ready?” Mabel rubbed the spoon with her thumb. Stanley slyly licked his thumb and rubbed the concave part of the spoon.

“When you are!” Mabel agreed. “Three… two… one!” She stuck her spoon on her nose and puffed out her chest. Stanley did the same. Saliva mixed with oil from his thumb helped make it stick to his much bigger nose. Mabel eyed him and grinned. She tapped his shoe with her own. He looked down on reflex alone. The spoon fell on his plate.

“Hey!” Stanley complained, a pout coming from his mock indignance.

Mabel took off her spoon and tapped in his ketchup. “It’s only fair,” she replied, her voice dripping with the innocence of a litter of kittens. “I watched you lick it.”

“You’re an observant little girl, aren’t you?” Stanley accused. He was nearing the last of his fries.

Mabel nodded and squashed a French fry against her spoon. “I learned from the best.”

“And who’s the best?” Stanley prompted.

“My grunkle,” she answered in an instant. She hesitated, her French fry halfway to her mouth, as she realized what she just said. She cleared her throat and finished eating the fry. So, she had a great uncle?

“You’re, uh, great uncle sounds like a cool guy.”

“Only the coolest,” she agreed. “So, uh… I, uh…” She stuffed a handful of fries in her mouth to muffle her own speech. That was just about the last of them from her. When he reached down to grab another, he found it empty. She looked out the window and struggled to swallow the mouthful of greasy potato.

He smiled before taking a deep breath. Get it over with, Stanley. “Mabel… you, uh…” Mabel swallowed the food she’d used to shut herself up and stared right back at him. You can’t say here forever. _She_ can’t stay here forever. Be responsible for once in your life! “So! Now that we’ve gotten a nice meal and got all cleaned up, I was, uh, wondering. I should probably take you back to the police station, huh?”

Mabel shook her head. “Uh-uh! No! Um, no, I, uh, no thanks. I, uh… don’t want to go to the police station.”

“Oh. Well, you know, I kind of don’t want to, either.” Stanley attempted a smile, but failed.

“Can I stay with you?” the girl blurted out.

“Stay with me?” Stanley echoed. What? This kid must be desperate if she’s asking a dirty vagabond if she could stay with him. “Sweet-heart, that’s not such a good idea. I think it would be better if you stayed with someone, uh, responsible.”

Mabel shook her head again. A desperation took over her, though she seemed to be doing her best to smother it. “I-I don’t have anywhere to go! Please?” God those puppy eyes were killer and she knew it. “I don’t have anyone to go back to.”

Stanley bit his lip. Oh, why did this have to be so darn difficult? “Look, kid, I… What about your great uncle?”

Mabel bit her lip. She looked up at him and then down at her empty carton of fries. “He’s… I c-can’t go back.”

Stanley set his chin in his hand. His own memories threatened the edges of his mind. This poor kid… Stanley was kicked out at seventeen with a car and a duffle bag of clothes and random things plucked from their room. This kid was _twelve_ having gone through who-knows-what and trouble that landed her in a situation where she was nearly abducted. Not to mention that blood she refused to tell him about. “Kid, I…” He shut his eyes. When he opened them, she was still watching him, waiting, both eager and scared of his response. “Well, you’re not leavin’ me alone, anyway, are you?”

Mabel grinned and, laughing, ran around and launched herself at Stanley. He wheezed as she nearly pushed him off the chair and somehow had a grip to make him lose a bit of air. He chuckled and hugged her back. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” she squeaked. “You’re so awesomazing!”

“Awesomazing, huh? I get a whole new word?”

“Definitely!” She looked up at him. “You’re definitely awesomazing.”

Jesus. Someone could look him in the eyes and, telling the whole sworn truth, could call him something other than the trash labels he received on a daily basis. He ruffled her hair. “Aw okay, okay. I know. How about we blow this popsicle stand, huh?”

Mabel let go of him and nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah!”

Stanley hopped off his chair and brought their tray over to the trash cans. _Now all we have to do is find some way to pay off our next meals!_ The sarcastic thought forced its way into Stanley’s head. He just got himself into a world of trouble, didn’t he? “So, uh…” The sun was still bright. “What do you think of a drive?”

Mabel nodded. “Okay! Are we leaving here?”

Stanley nodded. “Yeah, I’m getting a bit tired of this city. I’m thinking of going up north, seeing the sights, you know. What about you?”

Mabel pretended to think for a bit. “Hmm… I _guess_ that’s okay.”

“Oh well I’m very glad I have the Mabel ‘Seal-of-Approval’, then.”

Mabel chuckled and a skip lightened her step.

They found Stanley’s old car in the parking lot of a grocery store. The red mustang glinted in the light. The car he knew so well and had with him for over a decade now harbored a young girl as well a ragged conman who hadn’t showered in a week.

Stanley glanced up at the rearview mirror. She ruffled through her bag and began to play with some toy or whatever. She seemed happy. She didn’t _seem_ put off by the ragged state of his old car. In fact, she was smiling and occasionally petted the seats or played with the seatbelt as if she’d ridden in that car a million times before.

Well, that was one less thing to worry about. Then again, one less thing to worry about didn’t seem like much in the wake of a whole new world of worry _._ So, the day turned from winning over a good profit from pick-pocketing, a few bets, and sales to saving a kid from being kidnapped, having lunch, and then driving out of the city he found–and adopted?–her in. Oh, Stanley had the best luck, didn’t he? What was he going to _do?_ He wasn’t a caretaker. Even if he was, that didn’t change the fact that he didn’t have a home. The last time he slept in a bed was, what, a month or so ago? He hardly had a few extra outfits for himself and definitely not another for her. That hamburger had been his first real meal in days. The money he’d gotten was being saved up to pay off Rico’s goons. So, it wasn’t like he could use _that_.

_“You’re a pretty observant girl, aren’t you?”_

_“I learned from the best.”_

The conversation he’d had with her crept up on him. Just how much did she know, anyway? He shook the thought off in an instant. He wasn’t using her to make a quick buck fooling some sappy no-brains. She was, what, twelve? Sure, Stanley started pick-pocketing people when he was a little kid as a game. But he was a terrible person; Mabel wasn’t. Wait. He didn’t even know how old she was. “How old did you say you were, Sweet-heart?”

Mabel looked up from her bag. “I’m twelve! I’m going to be thirteen in a few weeks.” Yep. She was twelve. “Why? Are we sneaking into some teenager place?”

Stanley smirked. “Nope. But you think you can pretend to be a teenager?”

“Definitely.”

“I dunno. This isn’t the 70’s anymore,” Stanley warned.

“I could be anything at any time!” Mabel announced with a dramatic cackle. She hesitated. “Except an old man. Probably.” She shrugged and looked at her bag. “So, I bet you could pretend to be anything, too.”

“If I wanted to,” Stanley agreed with a shrug. He looked up at the rearview mirror. She smiled back and shuffled through her bag a bit more. His thoughts strayed to her origins. Who would want to throw out such a vibrant little girl? Who would ever want to _hurt_ her for that matter? He caught himself glaring at the road ahead. He forced himself to relax. The mere thought of anyone laying a finger on that little girl, trying to hurt the precious soul she held, trying to rob her of that mile-wide smile she possessed made his fingers tighten their grip on the steering wheel and nose scrunch up and heart pound faster. He hadn’t known this girl for more than an hour and he already felt this protective of her? He didn’t even know anything beyond her name and now her age.

Stanley stared at the darkening road ahead. This… was going to get very complicated very fast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, these little cuties. I love writing Mabel, why haven't I done so before? Qualms. Hehe Stanley's kinda fun to write, too, I'll admit. I'm using Dipper for an insight to the situation not too many people are concerning themselves with, at least with this AU that I've seen. Stanford is socially awkward as always. It was always Fiddleford who'd treated people, back before this whole portal nonsense. Back when they were friends and the times were much simpler... _for him._ I'm still desperately reading the journal, trying to find entries where he still might be thinking about Stanley or, hell, his family. It's, uh, a work in progress.
> 
> Journal 3, "Hiding Places"  
> "Ironically, the only other person left that I can trust is the least trustworthy person I know." So far so good. "He's a thief and a charlatan--but a well-traveled one." So far... so good? "I have no doubt that he is familiar with mob hangouts and back alleys the world over. He will find somewhere to hide Journal 1." So far, so good. "I have sent word to him and now must await his arrival." So far, so good. "Perhaps he can yet prove his worth to me." Aaaaand there it is. *sigh* "Perhaps the mistakes of the past can be undone. There's nothing I can do but wait." Yeah... okay... you aren't making me feel sorry for you with that stupid science fair project. I know what you've done, egotistical, selfish rude person. *throws hands into the air ~~like I just don't care~~ *  
> It might be possible for Stanford to atone for what he's done (as well as Stanley, he's not completely innocent) it's... tough deciding how while staying in character.


	3. Birds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stanley has decided to take Mabel with him. Dipper's now in Stanford's care. The Pines twins have had their first meal. Who wants to tell a story?

_Dipper_

After eating, Dipper lay down and waited. He had waited for so long that he’d fallen asleep. Well, now he was awake and hungry.

Dipper looked around the storage room. It was so tight and claustrophobic. Weird gizmos and machines and models cluttered the area. There was no mention of Bill, which was good. Stanford was distrustful of Bill now. Dipper didn’t have to hide or lie or anything about Bill, which was great.

Dipper sighed. He wished he could celebrate, but the twinge in his lower flank and the absolute boredom that bashed in his head was killing him. The twelve-year-old groaned and set his head against the wall. What he’d do for a _book_ right now. Even one of Mabel’s weird pre-teen girl magazines would be _something._ Well, after being forced to listen to _“Wolf Man, Bare Chest”_ amidst an audience of giggles made him rethink his desperation. Dipper looked around the room. “…yeah, this is still better.” _But not by much._

The door opened again. Stanford, a bit worse for wear than yesterday now that the lines under his eyes were more pronounced and his hair frizzier, walked into the storage room. A plate with lettuce and a piece of bread was in his hands. Stanford set it down in front of him. After a short confrontation of both sides being awkward about saying good-morning, Stanford tried to leave again. Aw, no. Now Dipper would be alone again… and, more importantly, bored.

“W-wait!” Dipper caught himself yelling after the man.

Stanford bristled and spun around. “Wh-what?”

Dipper hesitated. “Um… uh… never mind.”

“O… kay…?” Stanford dwelled in the storage room for a bit longer before leaving. Dipper went on to start on his breakfast. It wasn’t long before Stanford came back. He cleared off a box nearby, sat down on another box, and started on his own bowl of beans.

Dipper didn’t look up. He just continued eating. Okay…?

Soon enough, breakfast was over. Stanford took both their things and ran off to do whatever he did normally during the day. Dipper didn’t call him back. Instead, he set his head on the wall and stared at the box in front of him.

Stanford came back. In his arms were about a dozen books. Dipper perked up as he approached. The scientist set them down on the table. “It will take a few weeks for your wounds to heal long enough to take the stitches out. In the meantime, here are some books you can read. I don’t have any kid’s toys or the like.” He patted the book on top, which was labeled “The Sibling Brothers”. “This is actually a really good series. I have to go now.” With that, he was gone.

Dipper picked up the first book. _“Whoa._ ” Despite having read the book a few times before, Dipper didn’t hesitate to go back to it. It was a classic, after all.

 

_Mabel_

Mabel had dozed off in the car. She woke up enough to eat dinner–something small and odd from a gas station. But she’d quickly fallen asleep again.

Now, she was awake.

Stan patted her shoulder. She looked up and found him standing by her side. “Looks like it’s time to get up and get a start on the day.”

Mabel yawned and looked out the window. A quarter of the sky still had stars in it. Another quarter was pink. “What time is it?”

“Time to get up,” Stanley announced. “We need to get a start on the day if you want to eat breakfast.”

Mabel mumbled and sat up. She rubbed her eyes and looked about. It took her a second to realize they weren’t in the Mystery Shack. They were in his old–relatively old, it was newer now, right?–car. They got out for a bit to go to the bathroom in the newest place Stan had stopped. Mabel took her bag and took Stan’s hand. He led her back out into the heavily humid pre-morning parking lot. They found the Stanley Mobile relatively quickly in the quiet, semi-empty place. She glanced at the license plate. _STNLYMBL._ What had he called himself again? Something with an ‘a’ in it? Well, she certainly didn’t want to call him some fake name. Maybe he’d tell her if she asked about his car! Genius plan, Mabel. Thanks Mabel. You’re welcome, Mabel.

Mabel settled down in the back seat. “Why does your car say ‘Stanley’?”

He looked back at her in the rearview mirror. “It’s, uh… a name I like. A person I knew a while ago, y’know? I just haven’t changed it.”

“Okay.” Mabel shrugged and looked out the window. Okay, you’re going to have to try harder than that. Maybe, over breakfast, you can play a guessing game and make the answer his real name! That’s also a genius plan.

“What would you like for breakfast?”

“Pancakes!” Mabel’s mouth answered before her brain thought it over.

“Pancakes, huh?” Stan thought for a moment. “Okay. Pancakes sound good. But, we’re going to have to do a little something before.”

“Like what?”

“Well, we’re going to put on a performance!” Stan answered with a broad grin. “You know how to sing, right?”

Mabel nodded. “Yep! I know all kinds of songs!”

Stan watched the lightening road ahead. “Great! I’m thinking we can put on a little show for people passing by.”

“Like those performers on the streets?” Mabel cocked her head.

Stan nodded. “Exactly.”

Mabel looked at him through the rearview mirror. “But why don’t we get breakfast first?”

Stan thought for a moment. “Well…” he started slowly. “We need to save up a few dollars first.” _We’re broke, Mabel, so we need to earn some money. I’m letting you earn it honestly because you’re a good and honest kid._

“Okay.” Mabel shrugged and looked out the window again. The houses were starting to cluster together tighter and tighter as they entered the city. It wasn’t a city like Piedmont, but it was a good size city with big streets and lots of people.

Eventually, Stanley parked in the parking lot of a grocery store. A pancake house was just a few buildings over. She followed Stanley up to a relatively busy corner. “Okay. Now, I want you to stand up and sing about whatever you like. A few really nice songs. Can you do that?”

“Definitely!” Mabel plucked a flashlight from her bag and hopped onto a box. Stanley set down a bowl by her feet. When she got the thumbs up, she puffed out her chest and sang in as loud a voice as she dared, using the flashlight as a mic.

_“Don’t start, un-believing!_

_“Never don’t not, feel that feeling!”_

As Mabel sang, she drew a larger and larger crowd. As she got lost in the wonder of song and the energy of her own excitement and joy, she didn’t notice people flipping coins and setting dollars in the bowl at her feet. Some people went so far as to sing with her. In the crowd, Mabel could see Stanley walking about. Whenever he saw her paying attention to him, he waved and gave her the thumbs up. Soon enough, the song was over. So, she picked a whole new one from memory.

_“Friday night,_

_“And we’re gunna party ’til dawn._

_“Don’t worry, Daddy,_

_“I’ve got my favorite dress on!_

_“Roll into the party,_

_“The boys are lookin’ our way._

_“We just keep dancin’._

_“We don’t care what they say!”_

The crowd cheered and clapped along with the beat she made herself. After her third song, she got too tired to continue. “Watch me do a flip!” She jumped and fell flat on her face on the box. She laughed and held up her ‘mic’. “That was for _you_ guys!” The crowd, at first a bit worried, cheered and clapped. Mabel pulled herself to her feet. “That’s it, folks! Thank you!” A few more people dropped money into the bowl at her feet before dispersing.

Mabel, breathing heavily, put away her flashlight and hopped onto the street. She sat down and counted out the money she’d gotten. Stan strolled up next to her. “That’s some voice you got there, kid!”

Mabel grinned and held up the bowl. “Look!”

“Oooh! Impressive.” Stan grinned and counted out the money. “Three dollars and eighty-two cents. You’re a Rockstar!” He ruffled her hair, causing Mabel to laugh, and gave the bowl back. “Come on. Let’s go get a Rockstar’s breakfast.”

Mabel stuck the money in her bag and gave the bowl back to Stan.

Although Mabel had been the one to sing her heart out, Stan waved her off when she attempted to pay for the pancakes. “You keep it, kid. Get yourself a new toy.”

Mabel thought over the money she’d been gifted and then looked over her arm. Her sweater was starting to rub thin. She gasped and looked back up at Stan. “Can we visit the craft store?”

“The craft store? Well… it might make our schedule tight but… what the heck. After breakfast.”

Mabel squealed and wolfed down her food.

“Calm down! You’re gunna give yourself a stomachache!” Stan pointed out. Mabel stopped and drank her orange juice. She nodded and went a bit slower this time. Stan twiddled his thumbs. “So, I think I should be straight with you.”

Mabel swallowed a piece of pancake. “What do you mean?”

“My name… isn’t Andrew,” Stan admitted. He scratched at the “scar” on the side of his face.

Mable fought back a smile. “Then what is it?”

“Stanley. Stanley Pines,” he answered. His smile looked a bit forced. He peeled off the scar on the side of his face. “And, uh, this is fake.”

“Oh! So that _is_ your name!” Mabel gasped. _Well, he was straight with you about that. So… shouldn’t you return the favor?_ The memory of her time machine popped back into her head. Oh, right. Yeah, she should probably–

“Yep! That’s my name.” Stanley’s smile grew genuine. “So, what did you want from the crafts store?”

“More yarn!” Mabel answered in an instant. “I can knit sweaters! I have a whole new idea for a really good sweater.” Okay, so maybe the time machine can wait a little bit.

“So, you made that pretty thing yourself?” Stan indicated the sweater she wore.

Mabel nodded fervently. “Yep, yep! I make all my own sweaters!”

 

_Stanford_

Stanford could hear Dipper breathe a word of astonishment before taking the book.

_“What are you doin’, anyway?”_

_“Reading. I told you that.”_

_“Ugh. If it’s one of those nerd books again…”_

_“It’s not!”_

_“Show me! … Oooh. What’s it about?”_

_“It’s a mystery book about how two brothers go on adventures and solve mysteries.”_

_“Oh! Oh! Like us, right?”_

_“Yeah!”_

Stanford balled his fists and shut his eyes. _No._ Just… no. Not right now, not ever. Yet, even as he sauntered off to gather his supplies for another shape-shifter hunt, the boys’ voices wouldn’t leave his burnt-out mind.

Stanford set a shaky hand on the desk. His crossbow plopped onto a decaying newspaper next to him. The can of beans sat empty and sticky with residue nearby.

_“So, why don’tcha settle down, find yerself a wife?”_

_“Haha! Fiddleford, if I don’t discover this Unified Theory of Weirdness and I give up now, scientists will flock here and take it. Then my name will be lost to the books. Besides, I like the road less traveled. …heh. But, I’m glad you’re walking with me.”_

Stanford sat down at the table, head in his hands. For the first time in a very, very long time his chest hurt, like the time he had been documenting a gremloblin and ended up falling into a barn.

Regrets swarmed him like magpies. They dove and ripped at him with talons of regret and guilt and beaks of self-loathing and insecurities and fluttered out of his grasp in relentless storms of feathers and shrieks. _Mom. Dad. Fiddleford. Stanley. Science fair. College. Portal. Bill. Mom. Dad. Fiddleford. Stanley. Science fair. College. Portal. Bill._ His mistakes swarmed him. He clamped his hands over his ears and shut his eyes and gritted his teeth. But these weren’t words he could escape. These were not pleas from a desperate, distraught brother he could hide behind curtains or the snapping of a terrorized friend shutting the door or waking up from the cackling and shrieking of a fiend disguised as his friend. His arms shook and he slowly sunk into the table under the weight of the relentless bombardment of regret and self-hate.

 

_Stanley_

Stanley watched as the little girl went back to devouring her plate of food. Stanley was forced to match her to keep up. By the time breakfast was over, she’d finished off her orange juice and every bit of pancake.

Mabel hopped to her feet and tugged on Stanley’s wrist. “Come on, come on!”

“Okay! I’m coming!” Stan got to his feet and hurried out with her.

It was only after Mabel buckled her seatbelt that she asked, “You paid for our breakfast, right?”

“Oh, yeah. Yeah.” Stanley hurried his car out of the parking lot. Mabel gave him a flat look. He smiled hopefully back. “So, crafting store’s just over there.”

Mabel’s attention immediately snapped to the craft store they came to a slow next to. She gasped and oohed. The car was hardly off by the time she was out and bouncing on her heels. She dove straight into the yarn section. After a bit of consideration and moving, she plucked a few rolls off the shelf before racing off to buy them with her well-earned money. Stanley didn’t quite catch the colors as her hands moved quicker than his in a distracted crowd. Besides, it’s like a rainbow threw up in on an isle and they put a price tag on it. He wouldn’t have understood it if she put it on his face.

Mabel giggled like a maniac as they left the store and hopped into the Stanley Mobile. “Now all I need is to make the design.” She plopped down in her seat, put on her seatbelt, and looked over the new yarn she’d gotten.

“Oh? How long do you think it’ll take you to make it?” Stanley prompted as they set off.

“Mmm… I might have it done by tonight,” Mabel answered and took out her knitting needles. She began feverishly stringing the untied ball of yarn and converting it into what would soon be a sweater.

Stanley glanced back at her through the back mirror on occasion. How did her hands move that quickly? She concentrated on that little thing as if it was the only thing in the universe that mattered right then. She was so energetic and excitable and switched from subject to subject so quickly that he wouldn’t have guessed her having any attention span at all. He was reminded of Stanford reading up on some nerd thing and getting excited over the facts and pictures. He’d pour through books like he breathed oxygen to keep himself alive. The happy memory turned bittersweet as with any memory of his brother. Any memory at all, happy or sad, was tagged with the hurt, hateful snarl his brother had taken on when he’d seen him last. Then, finally, his face vanishing behind a set of curtains so he wouldn’t have to see his twin leave.

“Stan?”

Stan looked up. Mabel stared at him through the rearview mirror. “Are you okay?”

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Why?” Stanley cleared his throat and smiled.

“You look sad,” Mabel answered. “Like… you miss someone.”

“Pumpkin, who would I miss?” Stanley prompted. “It’s just you and me.”

Mabel hesitated and then nodded. “Okay. If you say so.”

“If I say so.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha, not these dudes! While the younger Pines twins confide in each other more openly and would even talk to their great uncles, the Stan twins aren't such people. They seem like the sort to bottle up everything until it explodes. *cough*Portal*cough* *cough*ScienceFair*cough*  
> I think I might be getting sick! Hehe
> 
> Anyway, buckle your seat belts because I intend to look into these mysterious backstories.
> 
> Also: I woke up at five thirty this morning and couldn't go back to sleep SO TAKE THIS AND UUUUUGGGGGGHHHHH MY HEART [My thoughts...](http://i2.kym-cdn.com/photos/images/facebook/001/029/075/fd1.png)
> 
> Journal 3 "Favorite Constellations"  
> "I discussed my dreams of proving my theory. I could finally leave Gravity Falls, return home to the East Coast, & publish my findings to the world." Okay, okay, okay. So, he mentions wanting to go home. I guess... slight slack might be given. "Imagine the look on the dean of West Coast Tech's face when he saw that the student he refused was now the next Einstein! Imagine how proud my family and hometown would be: the 'Freak' would return a hero!" ...okay, a little bit of slack. *starts tearing up* "F seemed puzzled by the scope of my plans. I had already discovered so many amazing things and recorded them in the journals--was this 'Grand Theory' really necessary? Why not publish now, settle down, maybe meet someone and start a family? I laughed at the thought. Romance was far more baffling to me than the greatest mysteries of the universe." Okay, I'm starting to relate to him. I might need to put this book down.
> 
> Journal 3 "Favorite Constellations" "Beans!"  
>  ~~"Reminds me of camping with my brother... I wonder what he's up to...."~~ *teary eyed again*


	4. Sweater Town

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are starting to look down. The twins both know how destructive the Stan twins had become. But as they bear the responsibility of children--one injured beyond mobility and another a danger to herself--will this destruction cease or will the flames just get hotter?

_Dipper_

Dipper tensed his shoulders in a sort of half-stretch. He looked over the book he held. “Meh. The butler stole the capers.” Dipper set down the book and looked into the storage area. The first thoughts that came to him were of Mabel. How was she doing? Was she okay? She wasn’t hurt, was she? Oh God someone kidnapped her. She drowned or fell or got kidnapped or–

Dipper took a deep breath and shut his eyes. No. He wasn’t going through this again. Instead, he let his senses take him. He fell back onto his hearing. He thought about the beating of his heart, the air that moved through his lungs in and out, in and out, in and out. The wind whistled outside. Nothing, not even mice, disturbed this small, cramped space. So, bored, he concentrated on quieter sounds, sounds he would normally block out to give him more conscious thinking space.

He heard a shuffle, farther outside of the space. He could hear breathing of an odd rhythm just outside. It was hard, constricted almost like someone wrapped a cord around a man’s neck and constricted it while the man in question just let it happen and did his best to muffle his own choking.

_“Oh, no, Mabel…”_

_“Mabel’s not here. She’s in Sweater Town.”_

_“Are you gunna come_ out _of Sweater Town?”_

_“Nuh-uh.”_

Dipper overturned the book in his hands. What should he do? Stanford isn’t Mabel. Dipper couldn’t cheer him up like he could Mabel by hugs and helping fix her problems when she felt too trapped to do it herself. Dipper’s eyes widened. Why did it take him that long to think of it? Stanford was only upset because he was too trapped to think of a way out. Dipper knew precisely what he needed. But first, he’d need to find a way to get Stanford out of Sweater Town.

What does Stanford like to do? Aside from studying anomalies and boasting about his achievements, there wasn’t much Dipper knew of him. Even when Dipper thought he’d figured some part out, a whole mess would appear and Dipper believed he didn’t even know who his great uncle was. He knew even _less_ now. Dipper knew what Stanford would like in thirty years. That would be…

Dipper put down a smile. “Uh, G- Stanford?” Ugh, he still had trouble saying his name.

There was a sharp intake of breath in the other room. After a short scramble, some muttered words Dipper didn’t feel like hearing, and a few moment’s silence, Stanford crept into the room. “Dipper? Did you need something?”

Dipper nodded and turned his focus on him. “Um, you know, you, uh… I was, um…” _Spit it out! Stop stalling! Just do what Mabel would do!_ “You want to play a game or something?” Dipper winced. “Um, I don’t know, like, uh…. Oh! Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons?” He put on a hopeful smile.

Stanford’s eyes went round he looked… genuinely taken aback. “You… you _know_ that game?”

“With pen and paper, shield and sword…”

“-Our quest shall be our sweet reward!” Stanford announced, his voice merging so well with Dipper’s it was a wonder they were separate entities.

Stanford huffed. “I didn’t know… I didn’t think anyone played that game anymore.”

“Me, neither,” Dipper’s grin turned sheepish. “Everyone says it’s too nerdy.”

“Well it’s just nerdy enough for us.”

Dipper could see the light starting to return to Stanford’s eyes. Like someone had stabbed through a thick layer of stone with a drill, light slowly trickled into the blocked off cavern Stanford had put himself in. Dipper’s smile turned into a grin. “Do you have it?”

“I think so!” Stanford turned and ran off.

Happiness bloomed inside of Dipper where despair and sadness had attempted to take root. Watching his great uncle, paranoid and terrified and stuck, crawl out his shell piece by piece was _magical._ Now he knew why Mabel loved to do it. Helping people was its own reward.

 

_Mabel_

Mabel continued to knit her new pink sweater. It was going to have an hourglass on it. A kitten would be nice, too. Kittens made everything cuter and nicer and friendlier. It was a proven fact! She knew a lot about proven facts. Like it was a proven fact that honesty was the best policy. It was a fact that you shouldn’t keep secrets from people who love you. It was a fact that you shouldn’t abandon the people you love. It was fact that Mabel should just stop being so stupid and ask Grunkle Stan to go to Grunkle Ford and fix the time machine!

She looked up at Stan. He had this faraway, sad look in his gaze. What was he thinking about, anyway? Was he thinking of Stanford? That would make sense. He was looking at her all amused and happy. And then he turned all sad and stuff. _“They used to be best friends, but then they got all stupid. Can you promise me you won’t get all stupid?”_ Mabel had asked Dipper after Ford came out of the portal. Grunkle Ford had punched Grunkle Stan straight after coming out of the portal, straight after Grunkle Stan offered to hug him! If Dipper ever acted like that… if they ever stopped being best friends…

“Hey, Pumpkin.”

Mabel looked up. Stan had stopped the car and looked back at her. “You want some dinner?”

Mabel smiled and nodded.

Dinner was significantly less energetic than breakfast, or even lunch where they ate on the road. This time, they got to sit inside and eat burgers again. And although Mabel was very grateful and often expressed her gratitude with lots of glamour and show, this evening she just…

“So, what’s the deal?”

Mabel looked up. “Huh?”

“That face your makin’,” Stan clarified. “Cat got your tongue?”

Mabel smiled and then sighed. “Well… I, uh… I haven’t been telling you _everything_ , really.”

“I can tell.” Stan smirked. “What? You think I don’t know what a kid with secrets looks like?”

Mabel smiled and chuckled. “Yeah, I guess.” She sighed and looked at her half-eaten burger. “I can’t go back to my parents. But it’s not, like, _that_. They’re um… they’re in California, but…” She shuffled her feet and sighed. _Now or never._ She set her gaze. “Okay. I can’t go back because I’m from the future and my parents haven’t been born yet.”

…

Stan laughed. “Aw, man! You really had me goin’ there for a minute!”

Mabel rifled through her bag and took out the broken time tape. “This is a time machine. It’s broken. It broke when I came here with my brother. But my brother teleported away. He was hurt, that’s why I had blood on my leg.”

Stan looked over the device. “Sweetie, this is a tape measure.”

Mabel pointed to the broken edge. “Open it. But be careful.”

Stan peeled back the lid a bit. His smile fell. Tiny little lights and wires crisscrossed the panel. Some sparks popped as it was opened. He shut it again and handed it to her. “Hmm… so, if you’re from the future and you’re a time traveler, prove it.”

Mabel grinned and kicked her legs. “Okay! Fire away!”

“Hmm… okay! Show me a future gadget.” Stan leaned forward.

Mabel thought for a moment. “Hmm… well, I don’t know about any future gadgets. After all, we weren’t really _planning_ for this trip. But, uh…” She rifled through her bag and brought out a metal rectangle. She turned on her phone and flipped through it a bit. “Okay and… here. Look at this.” She held out the phone for him to see. It was a picture of Mabel and Dipper, way before the magic water mess. “It’s a phone that takes pictures. That’s my brother.” She took it back and flipped through it again. “It can call people and send people texts. Those are like letters that you type in and send people.” She showed him the screen.

ME

Wendy?

11:30 August 4th

 

WENDY

Hey, Mabel! What’s up?

11:32 August 4th

 

ME

I found the cutest picture of a raccoon ever!

11:32 August 4th

Under that was a picture of a fluffy raccoon Mabel had snuck a picture of while it wasn’t looking. Its head was in the trash and bushy tail dusted the side of the trash bin.

Mabel brought her phone back, turned it off, and stuck it in her phone. “But, um, I don’t want to show you anything else in case I, like, change the future really big or whatever.”

Stan looked at the time device on the table. “And that can really bring you back and forth into the future and the past and all that?”

Mabel nodded. “Yep! Well, it’s supposed to. But it’s broken. I can’t fix it.” She kicked her legs under the table. After a moment, she lifted her head and looked at him with those big puppy eyes of hers. “You don’t happen to know anyone who’s into this sort of sci-fi, techy, future-y stuff, do you?”

“Maybe but I don’t know where he is,” Stan stated quickly and took a bite out of his burger. He refused to look her in the eyes.

She didn’t turn away, either. But she didn’t turn on the “puppy-eye” charm again, either. Grunkle Stan would help her out. She shouldn’t beg or make him feel like he has to because she wanted him to. Besides, Grunkle Ford probably hates him. Even if he doesn’t, Grunkle Stan thinks he does. For a while, Grunkle Stan didn’t look at her. He looked down at the hamburger in his hand. Eventually, he sighed and shut his eyes. “Mabel, even if I did, I don’t know where he lives.”

“I’m a time-traveler, remember? And my brother has a teleporter.” Mabel pointed out. “What’s his name?”

Stan gave her a sideways glance. “Stanford Pines.”

“Oh! Like your name!” Mabel grinned and then pretended to think for a moment. She hummed and shuffled through her bag. Mabel perked up and sat up straight. “Okay! Okay! So, Stanford Pines is your twin brother, right? Really nerdy, really smart, has six fingers, studies monsters and stuff?”

Stanley nodded and turned to her completely. “Yeah. That’s him.”

“He’s in Gravity Falls, Oregon,” she announced. “Luckily, my brother happens to have teleported to Gravity Falls, too. I guess we were both looking for a Stan twin!” Mabel giggled. “Anyway, if we go there, we can get everything all fixed!” _Everything- including you and Grunkle Ford._

Stanley looked down at her. “So, you’re saying that my brother is just four states away?”

Mabel nodded.

“And he’s not going to kill me?”

Mabel shook her head. “Stan, I really like you. You’re awesomazing! I’ll make sure that nothing bad happens!” She shrugged. “Besides, he’d never try and kill you. That’s silly.”

“Oh? And you know that for a fact.”

“For a fact!” Mabel agreed and then pointed to herself. “Time traveler, remember?”

“Oh, right. Uh-huh.” Stanley nodded and bit his tongue. “He really doesn’t want to be disturbed, though.”

Mabel’s smile left her. “Stan? _Please?_ I know you think he doesn’t like you, but… but my brother’s there, too. Even if you don’t really want to go there to see _your_ brother, could you let me go there to see mine?”

Stan bit his cheek. After some internal struggle, he gave her a slow nod. “Yeah. I guess.”

Mabel squealed in joy. Stan hardly got that as a warning before she tackle-hugged him, nearly throwing him off his chair as she did so. Stan made a soft noise that sounded like a chuckle and hugged her back. “Yeah, I know, I know. Eat your dinner, you little gremlin!”

Mabel grinned and ran back to her seat. She hurried to eat her “hamburger-with-fries”.

 

_Stanford_

Stanford had looked through everything he had. He’d nearly given up when he found the old thing hiding under a high school photo album of his graduating class. The photo album was nothing big or significant, in fact Stanford couldn’t be bothered to read it two days after he’d gotten it. Not after he saw his name multiple times, each time flanked by–

Stanford dusted off the board game box and strode back to the storage room, collecting things as he went. Once in the storage room, he moved a few boxes to act as a table between him and Dipper.

Dipper took the rules and skimmed over them as Stanford set up their game. Stanford would glance up on occasion. Those eyes, so full of youthful life and excitement, concentrated on that book as if it was the most important thing in the world. Most of the people he’d played with back in college didn’t hold the same enthusiasm as that little kid. Ah if only he had met someone like Dipper when he was in college.

_“Now, what do ya have here, Ford?”_

_“Like I said, I’m still trying to complete the homework from yesterday’s class.”_

_“It’s due next month, Stanford. C’mon, Ah’m takin’ you out to meet new people.”_

_“Fiddleford, please…”_

_“Ap! No ‘but’s about it. Ya’ve locked yourself in your room most a’ freshman year. Yer gunna have some fun whether ya like it or not.”_

_“I think you’re missing the definition of ‘fun’.”_

_“Ah think yer missin’ the point of freshman year. C’mon. Ah found this real great board game. Ah’m positive that you’ll love it. It’s full of math an’ creativity, monsters and magic, all that stuff you go off on all the time.”_

_“…ugh, fine. One game. Then will you leave me alone?”_

_“Cross ma heart, Stanford. If ya like the game…”_

_“I won’t complain about going to play it.”_

_“Good! We’re meetin’ out in the library.”_

Stanford dropped the dice he was holding. He was quite aware Dipper had turned the book down a bit to look at him. Stanford smiled, ignoring the regret that attacked him again. “Where are you?”

“Oh! Well, I’m just looking over the basics again.”

Stanford nodded and looked down at the dice. “4” stated plainly on one while another said “2”. He swept them up in his hands and placed them in their correct place before shuffling through his ancient box for the cards.

 

_Stanley_

So, two things happened that night. The girl he’d picked up was a time traveler, for one. For two, he not only just promised that he’d talk to his brother, who hasn’t talked to him since they were seventeen, but promised to ask him for an enormous favor.

Stanley stared up at the roof of his car. Mabel slept soundly in the backseat, a jacket pulled over her as a blanket. Stanley reclined in his front seat and stared at the roof of his car in contemplation. He knew he should be getting sleep. Still, it was as if he lost the ability to shut his eyes. His mind frothed and swirled like an ocean in an angry storm. Feelings clashed and struggled to take hold. On one hand, he was thrilled that he not only knew where his brother was, but he was visiting him and Stanford might not hate him. On the other hand, he was terrified of meeting his brother again. Guilt tore down at his heart as he remembered exactly _why_ he’d been thrown out. Fear of the outside also nagged at him, but he was busy attacking himself at the moment.

Eventually, Stanley forced his eyes shut. He’d think about this in the morning. They had _plenty_ of driving to do.

 

Stanley kept his eyes on the road. He hardly touched his breakfast burrito, which he’d gotten on the go. Mabel had finished knitting the pink sweater with a blue hour glass on it. Now she was knitting another one, probably of the same size. This time it was blue.

God, what landed him in this whole mess? He saves a little girl from being abducted and now he’s on a cross-country trip to find his brother and fix the girl’s time machine? _What?_ Even half-way across the country he couldn’t get away from the sci-fi weirdness his brother had been chasing. It would make sense that the girl would gravitate toward _him_ specifically and not any other genius scientist. Stanford was the weird kid. He always was and he always will be.

Stanley glanced at the rearview mirror. “So, what’s your brother like?” The words escaped his mouth before his mind could imprison them.

Mabel looked up. She grinned. “He’s just the best! He’s really smart and practical and really socially awkward.” _No._ “He’s super into the paranormal and everything so he likes chasing after monsters and conspiracies. I help him a lot.” _Please._ “I’m trying to get him to make friends but he’s really bad around people.” _Goddammit._ “Plus, people like to make fun of him about his birthmark because it’s weird.” Her tone took a sad note.

“Heh. Sounds like a nice kid.” Stan didn’t take his eyes off the road.

“Yep! He’s the best.” Her voice wavered. “He’s really the best. We’re best friends.” She groaned hit her head on the passenger seat. “And we got separated and it’s my own fault! Because I was being stupid.”

“Whoa! Kid, what are you talking about?” Stan looked up in the rearview mirror.

“Dipper and I got in a fight,” Mabel explained. “Everyone in our town was cursed. Now almost everyone’s cured- everyone but him. He was really, really focused on curing himself. I told him that maybe we should let our great uncle take care of it and maybe relax for a while. He got mad and then I kinda got mad, too. We found this time travel thingy. He thought that maybe if he stopped himself from finding the curse, none of this would’ve happened. Instead of trying to talk him out of it or getting our grunkles to help, I took it away. He grabbed this teleporter thingy and we ended up fighting and teleporting and going through time and everything. And then we got attacked by monsters and he got hurt pretty badly. I got us lost in wherever you found me. He teleported back to Gravity Falls but I didn’t go with because I was trying to get the time machine, which broke. And now we’re forever apart and I don’t even know if he’s… o-okay.” She sniffled. Tears welled up in her eyes.

Stan looked up at the rearview mirror. “Mabel…” He sighed. “That doesn’t sound like your fault.” _It sounds like it was your brother’s._ Stan put down the urge to say that. He got the feeling that Mabel, who seemed to hero worship her brother, would get way more upset with _Stanley_ than anything if he talked down on Dipper. He remembered a time such a protective, defensive, hero-worshipping fire burned in him. “You two got heated and got into a fight. That’s what kids do, you know? But you’re going to find him. And you’re makin’ me help you. Which, I don’t know how you got me to do it. You’re a good talker.”

Mabel gave him a small, sad smile. She wiped her face on her sleeve. “Thanks. I hope Dipper’s alright.” She looked down at her lap and then held up the partially made blue thing. “I’m knitting him a reunion sweater!” She got back to work. “And then we can wear matching reunion sweaters!”

Stanley chuckled and looked ahead. “I’m sure he’ll love it. You’re pretty talented, kid.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _This is so depressing why am I like this?_ I think I've learned how to write angst without hurting myself too badly. What do ya'll think? Haha  
>  Wall of Text, tl;dr at the end  
> But on a slightly more serious note, this is pretty much my theory on Stanford. Fordsy is a bit on the completely independent side and boasts about it. He seriously loves it. He can go through harrowing danger most people couldn't and live to tell the tale. But here's the hitch. He can't handle it when it's not something he can threaten with a gun. Sure he can fight a cycloptipus and win, but when Fiddleford left and Bill revealed himself a monster? Stanford couldn't handle it. He went into a completely frazzled, paranoid state. I'm 90% sure Bill didn't meddle with anything around him. Everyone in the diner staring at him with glowing gold eyes? Men speaking to him in Bill's lingo? That was probably just lack of sleep and extreme paranoia. How did he get over it? He went into the portal and ran away from Bill. In the Nightmare Realm, Bill was a "physical" entity he could face down. Or, rather, run away from.  
> When Stanley broke his project? He held a grudge against him for _years_. No matter what he's said, he hasn't called him once. Ford just can't handle emotional attacks. Who else is really bad at attacks aimed at the heart?  
>  Mabel.  
> Mabel is a very caring person and very optimistic. She loves making friends and can make friends practically anywhere. She's smart and talented and good with people and loyal. But when she's attacked, she can't defend herself. Claymation? She was terrified of it and wouldn't leave the _laundry basket_ until someone else helped her out of it. Gideon? When she felt trapped, she hid in Sweater Town because she didn't know how to handle it. Dipper eventually helped her out. Pterodactyl? She leaned on Grunkle Stan. When Grunkle Stan betrayed her, she went into a fit and wouldn't listen to anyone... until Stan came back with Waddles, that is. Cellestabellabethabell? That unicorn hit her straight in the heart again and again. All Mabel could do was beg her to stop, basically. When the unicorn turned out to be a plain bully, Mabel punched her straight in the nose, which led to a physical fight. When she was betrayed by Dipper when she needed him the most (after Dipper agreed to the apprenticeship) she couldn't handle it and ran away and hid in Sweater Town. She took the first thing that would help her: an old enemy extending a hand. But when Dipper came back for her... there was no force that could tear them apart.  
>  Who helps out these little teacups when they break? Stanley and Dipper.  
> Whenever Stanford got hurt over his fingers, Stanley would find a way to cheer him up. He even made the "high six" to make Stanford feel special. Stanley was there to help Stanford when he fell down. But when _Stanley_ caused Stanford to fall down, he was not forgiven. Stanford had no one to help him back up so he took it in the worst possible way. He took it like he usually did- get away from what hurt him. Later on, when Stanley gives up his life for him, Stanford is shown (yet again) that Stanley is still the same guy he can trust to help him up when he falls down.  
>  Whenever Mabel ran into something that she couldn't tackle, Dipper was there. When she got scared or creeped out, Dipper was there to hold her hand and make her feel safe. Heck, when Gideon took her away, Dipper jumped off a cliff (TWICE!) to save her. When Dipper fell off those tracks? She grabbed him. When she hid inside her paradise bubble that she knew was fake, Dipper helped her out.  
> Stanley, Stanford, Dipper, and Mabel are alike in so many ways. They're different in others, of course, but they're still siblings. When one can't take a punch, the other will take it for them. Stanford lost sight of that for a while and that's why I hated him so much in the show. In the end, it took Stanley's "death" to make him get over his pride enough to realize this. It didn't help that he was nudging Dipper in the same direction he went.  
> This is pretty much why I'm using a parallel between Stanford and Mabel rather than Dipper and Stanford or Mabel and Stanley. Sweater Town. Also, Stanley and Dipper because both of them are better at taking punches and helping the other up when they need it.
> 
> Tl;dr  
> Stanford and Mabel can't handle emotional abuse so they both hide in Sweater Town when they get overwhelmed. It's Dipper and Stanley that can coax them out and take the hits when needbe.


	5. You Know His Weakness, Right?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Mabel and Dipper are becoming more optimistic, it seems the Stan twins have to balance it out somehow. Hopefully, Stanley and Mabel can make it back to Dipper and Stanford in time. Hopefully, there isn't a some sort of time curse...

_Dipper_

Stanford and Dipper had played all day. They hardly remembered to take a break for lunch and, eventually, dinner. Stanford’s twitchiness had subsided and his smile was genuine. He didn’t hunch over like an angry cat was on his head, both weighing him down and puncturing his scalp with four sets of razor sharp claws. Dipper was calmer and his heart stopped skipping and starting whenever Stanford entered the room too suddenly. A board game was what they really needed.

Dipper held up his dice. “I roll to cut off the evil dragon’s head!” Dipper’s dice skipped over the table. They paused to see where it’d land. Dipper let out a groan as the dice landed on a two.

Muffling a snicker, Stanford announced, “You try to cut off the dragon’s head with your sword, but only manage to tap his neck. He turns around and roasts you.”

“Aw, man.” Dipper smirked. “Well, I managed to chip his scales, right?”

Stanford leveled his hand. “There’s a slight probability, yes.”

Dipper looked over the thirty-six-sided-dice in his hand. Memories of summoning, and then vanquishing, Probabilitor returned to him. The memory of his sister’s playful, eccentric laughter entered his head once again. Dipper sighed and set down the dice. “I’m sorry.”

“What?”

Dipper rubbed the back of his neck. “I was just… thinking about Mabel. I led her into this mess. Now she’s gone. She could be lost or hurt or worse and it’s all my fault. Just because I couldn’t sit down and think about what I was doing. Just because I didn’t listen to her. Now she’s gone and it’s my fault. I don’t know if I’ll ever see her again!” Dipper dropped the dice he was holding and set a hand on his head. He screwed shut his eyes. “She’s gone and it’s my fault.”

Stanford reached over the box and put a hand on Dipper’s shoulder. “Dipper.”

Dipper opened one eye and looked up at him.

“You’re going to get your sister back,” Stanford stated. His gaze hardened in resolve. “She couldn’t have gotten far. Even if she did, we’ll find a way to track her down. I _promise._ ”

“R-really?” Dipper’s scrunched up nose and furrowed eyebrows relaxed. He stopped plucking at the hair on his head.

Stanford nodded. “We need to reunite you with your family, Dipper.”

 

_Mabel_

Mabel opened one eye. Stan was asleep. With as much grace as a cat and silence of an owl, she plucked a measuring tape from her bag and crawled over to the middle seat. This Stan was very jumpy, Mabel knew. It took him a while to fall asleep. Still, that made it all the better as a challenge. After all, Grunkle Ford of their time was jumpy, too.

She stood up so that her head touched the roof and gently unrolled the crafter’s tape in various directions. She scribbled notes down on paper with a felt marker as lightly as possible to keep the noise level down. Eventually, she got the measurements she needed and packed away her things. Then, with Stan’s measurements safe in her bag, Mabel curled up in the seat, shifted the jacket-blanket over her, and fell asleep.

 

Mabel watched Stan as they went through the day. The more they drove, the farther along they got. The farther along they got, the more nervous and anxious he seemed to get. He didn’t even laugh at Mabel’s antics over breakfast. He didn’t accept her challenge to putting a spoon on his nose. Stan was scared and he was nervous.

Mabel looked down at the giant orange sweater she was making. Grunkle Ford was Grunkle Stan’s size, just about. It was her fault he was all jumpy. She had to make it up to him, somehow. Knitting him a sweater wasn’t going to be enough. What would Grunkle Stan like? She knew plenty of things Grunkle Stan would like in thirty years.

“Do you have any playing cards?” Mabel prompted.

“Playing cards? Sure. Why? You thinkin’ of bleeding a casino dry?”

“Nope! I wanted to know if you wanted to play cards,” Mabel answered. “When we stop and stuff. Like, uh, poker! I like that game.”

Stan shrugged. “Well, if we have time, _maybe._ ” _Oh, definitely. I have the cards. Let’s find a place to play._

Mabel grinned and went back to her knitting in earnest. Hopefully adult Grunkle Stan played like old Grunkle Stan. Mabel knew how to play against him. After all, he taught her everything she knew… which meant the basic rules and then how to cheat well enough to win and to not get caught.

By the time the sun started to fall, Mabel was done with Grunkle Stan’s sweater. She’d started on Grunkle Ford’s. This time, they got a motel room to sleep in. Maybe it was due to Stan wanting to sleep in a bed or maybe it was due to the place having a place to sit down. Mabel could assume it was the latter, but it didn’t matter, really. What mattered is she got to sit down and play a few games with her future great uncle! Mabel, ever so excited, allowed Stan to set up the game with crackers as their chips. “So, you know how to play?” Stan prompted.

Mabel nodded. “Yep!”

The first game: she lost, as expected. She looked up at him. “How’d you win so fast?”

“I cheated,” Stan answered simply.

“Oh. Okay.” Mabel smiled again. “Want to go another round?”

“Alright, another round.”

Grunkle Stan was always really flashy about shuffling the cards. It was always amusing, almost no matter what.

Mabel lost a second time. Holding back a laugh, she prompted a third game. Stan, a bit hesitant, agreed. Stan, ever so cocky, nearly “won” a third time. Mabel quickly caught him in the act and turned the game around for herself.

“Aaaaand four aces.” She set down her cards with a large grin.

“What? How’d you do that?” The look on Stan’s face was enough to make her laugh.

“I’ve been cheating the last eight turns.”

Stan laughed. “That’s my girl!”

 

The next morning, Stan and Mabel stayed behind for a little while longer than usual. Stan claimed it was clean up the room, but Mabel knew otherwise. He was just stalling. In order to keep her from asking questions, he set some soap in her hands and shoed her off to the bathroom to take a shower. The only clothes she got to change was her sweater. At least she got to wash up, though, and brush out her hair. As she waited for Stan to get through his shower, Mabel held the time machine in her hands. She looked over the complex machinery hidden in the simple object. How something so advanced and complex and amazing could be held under a simple, ordinary, if useful, thing was amazing.

Stan, baring his teeth in a bright smile and holding up their things in his duffle bag, held out his hand for her. Mabel gladly took it and followed him down the steps and to the car.

 

_Stanford_

Hoooo boy. Stanford paced in his room. He let his last words hang in the air. _“We need to reunite you with your family, Dipper.”_ Stanford promised he would, too. Why? Why did he do this? _Why?_ He didn’t know the first thing about tracking down a girl whom he knew only by name, probably. He didn’t owe this boy anything. In fact, the boy owed him for saving his life! So why was Stanford trying to make up to him when he hadn’t in any way shape or form wronged him?

Oh, but that is where he was wrong. Oh, so wrong.

Stanford gritted his teeth as memories of his own wrongdoings pushed at him again. Abandoning his brother, chasing away his best friend and partner, creeping away from his own family, trusting a damn dream demon- Stanford was a bad guy. That was that, there was no going around it. Stanford was a bad guy without a family. Dipper? Dipper was a good kid with a sister in need of aid and family to go back to. Besides, he was _still injured._

Stanford took a deep breath and stopped. Okay, he should stop pacing. He just needed a way to find this girl. Stanford had good ties to powerful people. Maybe just ring up a favor…? He was still a very prestigious and intelligent man with powerful research. He was still the top of his class, graduating early, owning twelve PhDs- he was the best man to ever leave Backupsmore and everyone knew it. Stanford looked at the phone on his desk. Alright. Now or never.

 

_Stanley_

Stanley watched the unending road before him. His fingers stayed tense on the wheel. Oh boy. Things were… things were going to get complicated very quickly very soon. Just a few more hours. A few hours and then he will be in the same state as his brother. Then, the same town. Then, the same house. Why did he agree to this?

He glanced back at Mabel. She was happily knitting a big green sweater. He looked ahead again. It’s so weird. He pushed away anyone who mentioned his family, even if they didn’t know who his family was. He was still very sour and sore about the whole deal. He hadn’t made his millions. He wasn’t worthy of being in the same family. So, anyone who questioned it got shut down. That is- everyone but Mabel.

That kid had a way with words. She was much smarter than she let on. Intentionally losing two rounds of poker and then winning a third after giving him the pretense of nearly winning? To make him unwary of her cheating just by acting the part of a twelve-year-old girl who got huffy at the thought of running out of a pancake house without paying? Being able to gain quite the sum in a _street performance_ of all things? She used her natural looks and the thoughts around them to her advantage as well as her natural capabilities. She was sharp as a blade. But that pure soul of hers negated any thought of crime. Taking her to his brother to fix her time machine and find her brother was the best course of action.

So why was it hurting him so much?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahahahaha I'm having so much fun writing this! Ford and Dipper playing DD&MD is so fun. Also, I read a comic somewhere where Mabel made Stanford a sweater and he was really happy about it. When he commented on how Mabel guessed his size perfectly, she admitted she snuck into his room while he was sleeping and measured him. And I just COULDN'T RESIST.  
> (Also, I know Poker isn't a 2-player game but shhhhh...
> 
> "Aaaand king me!" "Awww! Come on!" "She doesn't even know what game we're playing!" "Go fish?" ~Mabel, Dipper, Soos, and Stan, Fight fighters, Season 1, Episode 10
> 
>  _Oink._ "Snorting! That's his tell! I fold." "Tough luck, sucker! Waddles was bluffing." "What? I had four aces! That pig is a wizard! ... Look at him. He's taunting me!" "I've been cheating the last eight turns." "Hahaha! That's my girl!" ~Waddles, Stan, and Mabel, Land Before Swine, Season 1, Episode 18.
> 
>  **Journal Three: Infinity-Sided Die**  
>  "I can't believe I'm writing this, but today I actually had FUN. My grandnephew Dipper literally fell out of the sky and reminded me that, even in dire circumstances, one must take joy in the simple pleasures of life. In this case, that simple pleasure is my favorite board game of all time--Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons by BallWay Games (copyright 1974). Stanley always mocked my love of this game, and even some of my college friends called it "Girlfriend Repellent." But apparently, Dipper shares my love of a good game." Only Stanford would write the name of the company and copyright inside his own personal journal.
> 
>  **Journal Three: Your New Author!**  
>  "SIBLINGS: ... Can be a real friend when she's not doing one of her 'bits.' She's smarter than people give her credit for, and often acts the way she does just to drive me insane." Aw... Dipper and Mabel are the cutest things. Mabel's a sweet-heart, but I've always known she was clever.


	6. Nothing is stronger than the power of- Love? Mabel!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's just a little while longer before the course of history is changed forever. It's just a little while longer until lives are changed forever.

_Dipper_

Dipper couldn’t help but grin. “Mabel’s coming here? You found her?”

Stanford, standing stiffly by the door, hesitated. “Well… not yet. But I talked to a few people and they’re very good at finding people.”

“She’s not there?” Dipper echoed. His smile fell. “Oh. But they know where she might be, right?”

Stanford nodded. “Er, yes.” Stanford didn’t really look him in the eyes when he said that. He cleared his throat. “But I’m very sure they will find her. Any lost girl would go to a police station or start looking for her family, right? I’m certain that she’s found help and they’re just looking for you, now.”

“Hopefully.” Dipepr twiddled his thumbs. “Um… I don’t know if she’s near Gravity Falls.”

“Are you sure?” Stanford echoed. “Where could she be?”

“In a city somewhere, probably,” Dipper admitted. “I don’t know where, but the air was wetter there and very smelly. I, uh…” He looked down at his watch. _Now or never._ “I… you’re not going to freak out or anything, right?”

Stanford hesitated and then shook his head. “I won’t. I promise.”

Dipper gulped and looked at his wrist with the teleporter on it. “This is a teleporter. While I was injured, we went somewhere random. Then, I tried coming back here to Oregon. But I ended up in your yard. That’s how I got past all of your defenses and stuff.”

“You have a teleporter? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Dipper put a hand on the back of his neck. “Yeah, I didn’t tell you.” He sighed. “I was afraid you’d freak out or something.” Dipper shook his head and held out his left arm. “Here.”

Stanford walked forward and took Dipper’s hand. Strapped firmly around Dipper’s wrist was the teleporter and communication device. Upon touching the device, the interface lit up. At the top was the TAEPS symbol. Then, the current time, the current time zone, the date, and the location. “What the…?”

“It can do a lot of things, I just don’t know them. I only know how to move from place to place and see the time. You can talk to it.”

“Current time,” Stanford stated.

The watch’s feminine voice beeped, _“The current time is 21:02:45 Pacific Time Zone. July 13 th, 1982.”_

Stanford’s eyes went round. “Where are we?”

_“Your current location is 618 Gopher Road, Roadkill County, Gravity Falls, Oregon, United States.”_

Stanford looked up at Dipper. “And you can go to any place?”

“In theory.”

“But you can’t go anywhere in time without the time machine.”

“Yep. When we got separated, I kept the watch, she had the time machine.” Dipper sighed. “Man! If only I could look at this thing’s _travel history!_ ”

 _“Recent places_ ,” the watch beeped. They watched as a hologram popped up above the watch. A long list of places appeared in bullet point fashion

  * _Gravity Falls Lake (August 13 th, 2012)_
  * _Mystery Shack (August 13 th, 2012)_
  * _Mystery Shack (January 3 rd, 1983)_
  * _Tokyo, Japan (August 13 th, 2012)_
  * _Gravity Falls, Oregon (December 5 th, 1983)_
  * _Piedmont, California (August 30 th, 1999)_
  * _Glass Shard Beach, New Jersey (June 14 th, 1962)_
  * _Alamagordo, New Mexico (November 14 th, 1982)_
  * _Paris, France (May 3 rd, 1789)_
  * _New York City, New York (Jan 5 th, 1788)_
  * _Boston Massachusetts (December 16 th, 1773)_
  * _Middle Europe (1,999,992 BC)_
  * _San Francisco, California (January 9 th, 1862)_
  * _Gravity Falls, Oregon (August 13 th, 2012)_
  * _Jackson, Mississippi (July 10 th, 1982)_
  * _Gravity Falls, Oregon (July 10 th, 1982)_



The two stared at it in shock. Dipper muttered, “We went to Mississipi.”

Stanford nodded. “Jackson, yes. This is very vital information. You should go to bed, now. It’s, uh, dark outside. I’ll get this taken care of. May I have the watch?”

Dipper’s ears flicked back. He held it close, closing the hologram. “Well, I’d rather keep it, uh, with me.”

“Understandable. Get some sleep. I’ll talk to you in the morning.”

“Okay. Yeah.” Dipper nodded and leaned against the wall. Once Stanford left, Dipper closed his eyes and forced himself to stop thinking and go to sleep. The thoughts of meeting his sister again buzzed in his mind. He put them down. Mabel would tease him about eating his own shirt if Dipper didn’t get enough sleep. She was going to be there soon, he knew it. Stanford knew lots of government people and man could those government find what they needed. They found the portal before even Mabel and Dipper–who’d lived in the Shack for months–even knew it existed! They even know where she was last seen a few days ago and where she was going. They would have no problem finding Mabel. None at all. Definitely.

 

The next day, Stanford ate breakfast with him. Straight after breakfast, Stanford took their things with a “I’m going to be out of the house for a few minutes” before leaving.

Dipper cocked his head. He wasn’t given an explanation or enough time for questions. Where was- oh! Maybe he was getting more food for everyone to eat? That would make sense.

Dipper picked up his unfinished book.

 

_Mabel_

“We’re almost there!” Mabel announced, bouncing in the seat on his car. “We’re almost there! Wyoming is right next to Oregon, right?”

“Yep,” Stanley agreed, voice still tight. “It’s sure is.”

Mabel’s ecstatic smile dimmed a bit. “What’s wrong? Aren’t you excited to meet your brother again? We can fix the time machine and make everything better, right?”

“Yeah. Yeah, we sure can.” Stanley smiled at the rearview mirror. Mabel, unconvinced, stared right back. He looked ahead at the road. “You should get some sleep. After all, you don’t want to nod off on the way there, right?”

“Yeah!” Mabel’s smile returned. “I made Dipper and I sweaters, too.” _Sweaters for Mabel, Dipper, Stanley, Stanford- was there someone…? Oh no. Oh no! She forgot about McGucket! Ugh! Mabel was awful. What size was Mr. McGucket? She couldn’t just make sweaters for her great uncles and leave McGucket all cold and stuff._ Mabel looked down at her dwindling supply of yarn. Even if the sweater was a bit big, Mabel could use Stanley’s size… wait, no! No, she remembered! That time she, Grenda, and Candy gave Mr. McGucket a flash makeover, she had mentally checked his size in case he needed a new outfit. It… wouldn’t have worked. Still, this might be her last sweater so she needed to be certain of the design. She’d have to start in the morning, anyway. She could think of a design then!

 

Stanley got them breakfast burritos in the morning. Mabel got to work on her sweater as soon as breakfast was over. She’d glance up at Stanley on occasion. He had this contemplative look about him. Mabel wasn’t dumb. She knew what he was thinking about. He was thinking about his brother.

Mabel quietly continued knitting.

 

_Stanford_

Stanford sat down on his bed, head in his hands, eyes downcast. He shut his tired eyes. This… was going to be an event. The phone quietly beeped to itself. He was waiting for another call so he should keep the phone on.

God, Dipper was so young and exuberant, despite his injuries. He cared about his sister more than himself. After all, the first thing he did after waking up in a strange place with a strange man unable to move from his own injuries was Mabel. He hadn’t known anyone who was so… loyal. That’s the wrong word. Dipper loved Mabel. Mabel loved him, too, she had to.

_“How’s it goin’ Sixer?”_

_“I’m just fine. Stanley, stay in bed.”_

_“Nah, I’m fine.”_

_“You are going to hurt yourself! You have stiches in your cheek and a fractured rib. If you move around too much, you could hurt yourself much more than you already are.”_

_“I know, I know. I was there, wasn’t I? I’m_ fine _. I’m a tough dude, remember?”_

_“I know. You are very strong, but…”_

_“It wasn’t your fault, y’know.”_

_“Of course it’s my fault. If I hadn’t stayed at the library late–”_

_“Those assholes would’ve snuck up on you some other time. Ford, I’m not afraid of Crampelter or his goons.”_

_“They sent you to the hospital, Stanley!”_

_“Yeah? I busted his face good, didn’t I?”_

_“If you keep picking fights like this…”_

_“They wouldn’t suspend me, not with you around, Teacher’s Pet. They mess with one of us, they mess with both of us, right?”_

_“Heh. Yeah, I guess.”_

_“That’s what I’m talkin’ about! Now where are the muffins Mom bought yesterday?”_

_“Ugh, Stanley. No. She’s saving them for tomorrow and you can’t get up!”_

_“Haha! Gettin’ up, anyway!”_

Stanford stood up again and started shuffling through his drawers. Maybe he could get his mind off things by… wait a moment. Stanford pulled out a scrap of old newspaper from beneath the physical copy of the paperwork he’d been given along with a grant to start his research in Gravity Falls. “I thought I threw everything away…” It looked like an average newspaper, a bit old. He’d probably received it before getting tangled up in Bill’s web. Just the thought of the monster sent shivers down his spine. Ugh.

Stanford idly flipped the paper over. Blah, blah, blah. New candidates, leg warmers fashion going out of style, some small vacuum company was trying to put down roots some distance away. A pretty nickel had been put on the page to allow the one-man company to put up his picture above his phone number. For a moment, Stanford was confused. Was he looking at- oh wait. Wait, _what?_

Stanford nearly dropped the paper. Stanley’s face grinned back at him, one eye dulled and smudged from age on the cheap paper. “Stanley?” he breathed. Why had this been hiding under his grant of all things? Stanford turned to the phone. Well, after all these years… Stanley was probably really well traveled, knew a lot of people. Stanford found himself typing in the first five numbers before the thought of _why_ he was well-traveled came to him. He was a crook, someone who slunk in backways and dealt in thievery and smuggling. He wouldn’t find a little girl in a place like that. He couldn’t. He _wouldn’t_. Stanford put down the paper and reset the phone.

 

The next day, Stanford washed himself off, changed, and put on some less worn wear. Gloved hands in his pockets and a good amount of money in his possession as well as a knife, Stanford quietly left his home to go to the store.

Once he had a good month’s worth of groceries for proper meals, Stanford went home. From there, he busied himself tidying the place up. Who knows how much longer he had until they arrived? After all, they were given a specific place of origin and a place where she was heading.

As Stanford picked up a few old containers of food, he looked over the phone. He sighed, set down the trash, and picked it up.

_Briiiing. Briiiiing. Briiiing. Briiii- click._

Stanford, expecting no less than being ignored, set down the phone and picked up his things. Well, one last ignored call to Fiddleford wouldn’t hurt too much. Why he thought the man he’d brushed off for so long would answer him now was beyond him. It’d been _months_ since they saw each other last. Just about… two and half months. It’s not like he was counting or anything.

Stanford focused his concentration to the task at hand.

 

_Stanley_

Stanley stared at the roof of his car. Mabel was asleep by now, all cozy in a trench coat. He should go to sleep. There was plenty of driving to do in the morning. Maybe… maybe they should take a shower before getting there. That would probably be the polite thing to do, right? After all, first impressions matter. Stanford was probably living it up in his big fancy house in the middle of nowhere.

Stanley put down the anger that bloomed within him. He could think about how much Stanford’s life had improved since Stanley was gone later. Right now, he had a kid in need of getting home. Right now, he needed to sleep.

Stanley shut his eyes. Still, thought swirled in his head like circling sharks in bloody water. Tomorrow, he was going to meet with his brother. He’d see his brother’s face after years and years of separation. He’d ask to fix some future machinery. Then, after Mabel was gone, he’d be kicked out again, most likely for the rest of his life.

 

Stanley watched the road before him. The sun cheerily lit up the warm landscape. Behind him, Mabel was furiously knitting a sweater. Stanley’s gaze drifted to a gas station nearby. His car slowed with a gentle _tick, tick, tick_. Mabel glanced up at him as the car stopped, but made no moves to question him. They took another “shower” in the one-person restrooms again.

By the time they were on the road again, Stanley was out of money. _Good-bye food_ , Stanley thought bitterly. All he had was the money he was going to pay Rico’s goons. He certainly wasn’t using that, not when the other option was getting killed in a creative way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of these times/locations are places/times of actual historical events that changed a LOT of lives... or ended them. *ahem* anyway, this was on okay chapter to write. Nothing much happened. It's basically a transition chapter. I mean, it was kinda short. I want to keep it a consistent "Dipper, Mabel, Stanford, Stanley" perspective thing going. So, in the event of a 4-and-a-half page chapter being posted, I will post a second shortly after.  
> (Edit: Changed the date from July 16th to July 13th)


	7. The Author of the Journals... My Brother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time.

_Dipper_

Dipper finished the book. Afternoon sunlight filtered in through the window. Dipper glanced back at the bandages Stanford had changed a few hours ago. They were nice and white. Dipper looked down at his watch. “What time is it?”

_“The time is 13:26:04, July 16 th, 1982.”_

Stanford hadn’t visited since he’d changed Dipper’s bandages and that had been right around breakfast. Dipper flicked his ear and looked down at the finished book. Where was Mabel, anyway? He should’ve at least received a call about her, right? Dipper took a deep breath. No. They’d only been searching for, what, a day or something? He had to be patient. Still… it was getting harder…

Dipper tensed. Something happened to her. He knew it. Something happened- something bad. The boy tried to smother his paranoia, but it wasn’t working. Stanford said they’d at least be called back by now. Where were they? What was happening? Oh, no. _“Please be okay, Mabel. Please be okay.”_

 

_Mabel_

Mabel finished Mr. McGucket’s sweater along with the last of her yarn. After it was stored away with hers, Dipper’s, Stan’s, and Ford’s, she looked about. It was still really warm outside. The trees started looking like the trees from Oregon. Mabel grinned. They were going back to the Shack! Well, what was _going_ to be the Shack. They were going to find Dipper and they were going to fix the time machine. Everything was going to turn out alright.

Yeah, Dipper was fine. He was just staying with their great uncle. They hadn’t talked to each other in a while, _sure_ , but he was with Grunkle Ford! …really paranoid Grunkle Ford who wasn’t their great uncle yet. Mabel’s smile dimmed as doubts started to pluck at her. Dipper was fine. He and Grunkle Ford got along all the time- more than Mabel liked, admittedly. He always spent time with Grunkle Ford in their own time.

Mabel shook herself. Stop being so dumb, Mabel! Dipper was perfectly fine. Grunkle Ford fixed him up and they were probably playing a game of DD&MD because they’re dorks. Kinda like how Mabel and Stan played Poker and did a street performance. Yeah! Anyway, how did she _know_ Grunkle Ford was all paranoid, anyway? He was probably fine… with Bill.

The sudden thought turned her blood to ice. _Bill._ The triangle guy! What if Grunkle Ford still liked him? What if they were still friends? What if Bill convinced him that Dipper was- nope. Bill wouldn’t do that. He was evil and gross and liked hurting people. But he wouldn’t… hurt Dipper, right? Grunkle Ford wouldn’t hurt Dipper, even if Bill told him to.

Mabel set her cheek on the glass of her door. She squinted her eyes. A sign before them stated “Welcome to GRAVITY FALLS”.

 

_Stanford_

Stanford paced the kitchen again. Food was in the pantry and the refrigerator. The kitchen, dining room, and living room were as clean as he would get them within the few hours he was bothered to clean them. He’d bathed and changed his clothes. He’d changed Dipper’s bandages, too. Their DD&MD game was tucked away. Now all they needed was for someone to give him news about Mabel. Where were they, anyway? He thought these people were competent! Surely finding a twelve-year-old lost little girl without her parents would be easy.

…

Finding a lost little girl would be easy.

Stanford put down his paranoid thoughts. If Dipper saw him strung up and knew why, the boy would surely panic. After all, Stanford was prickly and he was a hardened adult. Dipper was just a kid. Mabel was a kid, too. But she was smart. Dipper regarded her as smarter than people gave her credit for. Therefore, she’d have been smart enough to go to the police station instead of trying to navigate the country on her own.

Stanford looked at the clock. He should probably check on Dipper again. They hadn’t spoken for a while.

Stanford walked back into the storage area where Dipper lay on a table. He was very involved in the fourth book of “The Sibling Brothers” series. But, as Stanford approached, Dipper sensed him and looked up. “Oh, hey G- Stanford!” He still had trouble saying Stanford’s name? Ah, the kid was just respectful. Maybe he should’ve given him a name he could say, like Dr. Pines. He seemed like the sort of kid to call people “Mr.” or “Ms.”

“Hey, Dipper. Are you, uh, feeling alright?” Stanford prompted, his hands held behind his back.

Dipper nodded. “Yeah. My scratches don’t hurt or anything.”

“Well, that’s good.”

Dipper smiled. “Mhm. Did they call-” Dipper cut himself off. His tail and ears flicked up and he turned his head so quickly Stanford was afraid his neck would snap.

“What? What’s wrong?”

Dipper relaxed a bit. “Oh. Someone’s at the door is all.”

“Someone’s at the door? I didn’t invite anyone over.”

“Not even the police?”

 _Knock, knock!_ A heavy hand struck the wood of Stanford’s door.

 

_Stanley_

Stanley stood at the front door. He raised his hand and hesitated. “You haven’t seen to your brother in over ten years. It’s okay. He’s family.” He took a deep breath and glanced down. Mabel gave him the double thumbs up, her braces-laced grin wide. Stanley looked at the door. “He won’t bite.” Stanley forced himself to knock.

There was short scramble inside. Then, the door swung open. Stanley took a step back, eyes round in shock as a crossbow bolt tapped his head, straight between his eyes. _“Who is it?!_ Are you here to steal my eyes?!”

Stanley recognized the person holding the crossbow, but just barely. His dark brown eyes and his unmanageable, curly brown hair that framed his squared face resembled Stanley quite a bit save for the fact Stanley had a mullet. Mabel stared at the man with an open mouth, as if she hadn’t expected a cross-bow wielding maniac to jump at them. “Uh, Mabel? I thought you said he _wasn’t_ going to kill us.”

Mabel nodded, but did not speak.

Stanford relaxed a bit. He glanced between Stanley and Mabel. “Mabel? Stanley?”

Stanley huffed, “I can always count on you for a warm welcome.”

Stanford abandoned the crossbow and grabbed Stanley by the front of the shirt. He whipped out a handheld flashlight and shined it in both of his eyes. Stanley shoved Stanford back. “Ah! Hey! What’s this?”

“I’m sorry. I just had to make sure…” Stanford’s gaze dropped to Mabel, who’d drawn into herself and hid behind Stanley. He looked at the forest and his fortified front yard. “Come in, come in.” He stepped back.

Stanley walked in, Mabel holding onto his waist. The door shut behind them.

“Stanford?” A boy’s voice yelled from somewhere in the house. “Mabel?”

Mabel’s eyes grew round and she let out a squeak Stanley could only imagine could come from a couch’s whistle. “Dipper!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *giggles like a maniac* This is my favorite chapter title I've come up with for this fic and I'm not sorry.  
> Also, this chapter ending was inspired by a line of comments. Although less fun, it made much more sense. Again, like the last chapter, this is radically different then what it could have been. I'm using the previous sketch to make another scene. So, in the meantime, have the [third possible option](https://sta.sh/02eswvbic87h) I could've chosen!   
> This might be one of the shortest chapters I've ever written.
> 
> In other news: this is quickly becoming my most viewed piece on AO3. Huh. It's also one of the most spontaneous, save for tiny one-shots like "we'll never forget what you've done" and "Can We Keep It?" and my newest. In fact, most of my one-shots are thought-plot-written-posted all within a few hours. I only have, like five chapters of "See You Earlier!" when I posted Chapter One. Weep womp. Haha


	8. Heh. The Old Boy Looks a Bit Different Than He Did Back in My day.

_Dipper_

“Dipper!”

Dipper bleated and laughed. “MABEL!” He grabbed onto the box nearest and pulled himself up. His front legs fell off the table and onto the floor. The rest of his body followed suit. Although he grimaced as he moved his back leg, he couldn’t think on that now. He hobbled up to the door on three legs. He’d barely managed to get into the living room when a body hit Dipper.

Mabel, squealing, crushed Dipper in a hug that stole the breath from his lungs. “Dipper! Dipper, you’re alright!”

Dipper laughed and hugged her back as tightly as he could. “Mabel, you’re alright! You’re here!”

“I missed you so much!”

In the doorway of the kitchen, Stanley and Stanford stood. Stanley sighed and smiled. Stanford looked between them, confused but with a small smile.

Mabel let go of him long enough to take something out of her bag and stamp it on his head. Dipper huffed and put his hand on his head. His pine tree cap fell over his face. He tipped it back and grinned. “Ah-ha! Thanks! Mabel, where’ve you been?” He pushed her back so that he held her at arm’s reach.

“With Stan!” Mabel threw her hands up in the air and grinned. “I found him, Dipper! We went across the country and sang songs and I knitted sweaters and we found you!”

Dipper grinned. “That’s awesome! Gru- Ford and I got to stay here. Look!” He pointed back. Mabel looked over his shoulder at his bandaged hind leg. “He patched me up!”

“Whoa! Are you okay?”

Dipper nodded. “Yep!”

Stanley strolled up to Dipper. “So, you’re Dipper. You’re more of a… deer than I expected.”

Dipper looked up at him. “Oh, no! I’m not a deer! Uh, I’m a person but I was turned into a deer. It’s, uh, complicated.”

“He drank magical water and it turned him into a deer!” Mabel explained. “Remember how I said he was cursed?”

“Oh. I didn’t know curses could turn you into, what, a deer centaur?”

“Technically,” Stanford came up from behind them. “-they’re called cervataur. A creature that is half-human, half-animal is most often called a ’taur, with the prefix being the Latin term for the animal. Cervataur is a deer-human.”

Stanley gave him a blank stare. “So, he’s a deer-centaur.”

Stanford sighed. “No, he’d be called a cervataur.”

Stanley grinned. “So, basically, he’s a deerkid?”

“I call him Deerper!” Mabel piped up.

“Mabel!” Dipper groaned.

“Deerper!” Stanley snapped his fingers. “Clever! I like it!” He waved his hand. “Deerper: the deer-centaur.”

Stanford huffed, slightly annoyed. Dipper rolled his eyes. “So, Mabel, you have the time tape, right?”

Mabel’s grin faded a bit. “Um… heh. About that…”

“Mabel.” Dipper looked at her bag and then her. “You do have it, right?”

“Yeah! It’s just… um…” Mabel pulled out the little bag with the broken time tape in it. “It’s kinda broken.”

Dipper’s ears flicked back. “Oh no.”

Mabel turned to Stanford and held it up. “Can you fix it?”

Dipper’s ears perked up.

Stanford looked it over. “I… believe so. But I’ll need quite a bit of time. Machines aren’t my… _greatest_ strong suit. Mysteries and monster hunting are a different story, of course.”

Mabel piped up, “What about Mr. McGucket?”

Stanford froze. The shock that hit him nearly caused him to drop the time machine. “M-McGucket? How do you know that name?”

Dipper stared at Mabel. “Look, I don’t think that’s a great idea.”

“Why not?” Mabel shrugged. “We know him in the future, right?”

As they talked, Stanley turned to Stanford. “She’s a time traveler. She knows pretty much everything.”

Dipper lowered his voice and leaned toward her. He said between clenched teeth, “Don’t you remember what happened to him? He could be ‘Old Man’ McGucket by now!”

Mabel’s smile slowly faded. She scrunched up her nose and furrowed her eyebrows. “Well… I mean, we could still talk to him.” Mabel turned to Stanford and raised her voice. “Right? We can still talk to him?”

Stanford shook his head and tightened his grip. “No, I’m afraid not. I don’t know where he went and he hasn’t been answering my calls.”

Dipper shut his eyes. “Okay. So… it’s July… um, what happened to him in July?” Dipper opened his eyes.

Mabel shrugged. “I don’t know! But it can’t be good. We have to find him.” She started to take Dipper’s hand, but he pulled it out of her reach.

Dipper held his hand over the device. “No. We have to find him in person. Think, Mabel! If you were scared and alone, what do you think would happen if-if Gideon appeared right outside your door with his friends trying to ask for help?”

Mabel seemed to consider this point. “But wouldn’t we be appearing there anyway?”

“If he was in a house, we’d be inside of his house,” Dipper pointed out. “But that’s the thing. Where would we find McGucket after he ran off?”

Mabel gasped. “Dipper! Don’t you see?! He’s probably already made that evil cult! They leave signs everywhere!”

Dipper nearly huffed as the idea slapped him in the face. “Why didn’t I think of that? Stanford? When you went out to town, did you see any eye symbols that were crossed out?”

Stanford nodded. “Yes. But, do you really think McGucket is tied to that?”

“We _know_ so.” Mabel nodded sharply.

“It’s dangerous,” Dipper warned. “More than likely, we’ll just end up finding cultists and that would not be good. We need a good plan to sneak into the museum without anyone knowing it…”

Mabel nodded. “Perfect plan, Dipper! We run into the Museum and hide behind the curtains!”

“I can’t run.”

“Oh.”

Stanford cleared his throat to grab their attention. “Are you sure this is where we will find Fiddleford?”

Mabel nodded. “I am ninety-nine percent positive.”

“Okay. Dipper can stay here with Stanley. You and I will sneak into the Museum and–”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Stanley held up a hand to stop Stanford. “I’m not letting Mabel run off into the museum alone.”

“I’ll be there,” Stanford pointed out. “I’m a grown adult, Stanley, and she’s a time traveler that you claim to know everything. Besides, she knows where to find Fiddleford. Dipper can’t stay here on his own, either.”

Dipper’s heart dropped.

“You’ve never been good with kids and, by the way you kept a kid in a _storage room_ , I don’t trust your judgement!”

“My judgement?” Stanford narrowed his eyes. “I’m being sensible! There was a table big enough to hold him in there and it’s not like I had any help. I’m doing the best I can and, might I remind you, that’s pretty damn good.”

“What happened to this Fiddleford anyway? You drove him off, too?”

“Don’t you start that one with me.”

Mabel and Dipper looked at each other. This was the portal all over again. Stanley had stepped away from the wall and now they were just a couple of feet away from each other, their voices raised and any thought of Dipper and Mabel’s presence gone.

 

_Mabel_

Mabel’s head flicked back and forth as she watched the argument between the older twins like a fast-paced tennis match.

_“Finally! After all these long years of waiting, you're actually here! Brother!”_

_Thunk!_

_“Oh! Ow! What the heck was that for?!”_

_“This was an insanely risky move: restarting the portal! Didn't you read my warnings?!”_

_“Warnings, schmarnings. How’s about maybe a thanks for saving you from what appears to be, I don’t know, some kind of sci-fi side burn dimension?”_

_“Thank you? You really think I’m gonna thank you after what you DID THIRTY YEARS AGO?!”_

_“What I did? Why, you ungrateful…”_

Mabel stood up and raised her voice. “HEY!” The quarreling siblings looked at her. As if just realizing she was there, Stanley’s grimace slackened. Stanford backed off and smothered the appearance of anger. Dipper let out a quiet sigh of relief. Mabel put her hands on her hips. “Yeah, hey, hi. What the heck is going on here?! I thought we were trying to find Mr. McGucket!”

Stanford shot a sharp look at Stanley.

Stanley ignored him. “Yeah, uh, we’re just workin’ out the details.”

Mabel looked at Dipper and then back at them. “Well, we came up with our plan. Right, Dipper?”

Dipper’s ears flipped forward. “Uh, yeah. Right. Plan. Yes.”

Mabel smiled. “So, Dipper and I elect to go by ourselves!”

Dipper wheezed. “Wait, what?”

Stanley and Stanford both shook their heads. “Oh, no.”

“We can’t let you go alone.”

“You’re not even from this time!”

Mabel smothered a smile. They were talking _together_ , now. “Well, if Dip and I go there and sneak into their secret hiding place together, then you two can work together to find Mr. McGucket’s family and find him that way! I mean, it’s obvious that he would go back to his family. Family sticks together no matter what.” _Laying it on a bit thick there, Mabel…_

Dipper cleared his throat. “Right, uh, I like that plan. But, uh, Mabel I can’t walk.”

“Sure, you can.” Mabel turned her head back. “Remember that time you sprained your ankle? You walked back then!”

“I had two legs and crutches!”

“Then we need to get you deer crutches, dio,” Mabel waved her hand.

Stanford spoke up, “Actually, that’s not a bad idea. I think I have a wheelchair around here or a desk I can convert into one. If we tie you to that, you won’t need to use your back legs and you can walk freely.”

Stanley sent a warning stare his way. Stanford caught his gaze. His eyes grew round in shock as he processed what he just said. “But that doesn’t mean you can go out to places like that!” Stanley hit himself in the forehead.

Dipper sighed. “I’m still a monster, Mabel.”

“But you have deer senses! Remember that time Wendy went crazy and you escaped her? Or that time Grunkle F- he tried to attack you and you ran off? Or that time I got lost but you found me and found your way back?”

“You… yes… but… but those cultists aren’t…”

“Then what’s your plan?”

Dipper’s ears flicked back and he mumbled something too low for her to hear. When Mabel prompted him to speak louder, he shut his eyes. “I was waiting for Ford to make a plan.”

Stanford shot a pettily victorious smirk Stanley’s way before muffling his emotions again. Stanley glared back at him. Stanford spoke up, “Then you agree with my idea? You and Stanley can stay back here and wait. Mabel and I will go to wherever you two said you saw or heard about him. Then we can meet up back here. After all, Fiddleford is my friend and former partner and I really don’t want you moving lest you break the stitches I gave you.”

Stanley rolled his eyes. “If he’s your friend, why don’t you just call him over here?”

“He doesn’t answer the phone,” Stanford state quickly. “He’s not at home often, I suspect.”

Mabel concentrated on Stanley. “We’ll be fine, Stan. I promise. We’re gunna find Mr. McGucket and then fix everything.”

“I’ll make sure she doesn’t run into trouble.”

“I’ll make sure he doesn’t run into trouble.” Mabel smiled innocently at Stanford, whose victory turned into a slightly annoyed look of confusion.

Dipper said, “We’ve been on missions like this before. Like the time we met the Society of the Blind Eye for the _first_ time!”

Stanley sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “Can’t you fix that time machine yourself?”

Stanford nodded. “I could repair this thing, but I don’t know how effectively.”

Stanley looked down at Mabel and Dipper. Mabel smiled her usual, sunny smile. Dipper’s ears were still back and he sported an uncomfortable smile. Stanley sighed. “How will we know if you two get into trouble?”

Mabel piped up, “I think there’s a phone in the museum! We’ll find a way to talk to you if we get in trouble.” _Unless they use that stupid memory gun on us._

“That won’t happen,” Stanford stated. “If I know Fiddleford, we aren’t really in danger. He’d never hurt a kid and… he’s not one for revenge. Come on. We’ve been burning time. We need to get there.” Stanford strode out of the living room.

Mabel started to hop away when Stanley knelt and wrapped his arms around her in a hug. “Be safe, Pumpkin.”

Mabel returned the hug. “Don’t worry! I’ll keep Ford out of trouble! And me!”

Stanley chuckled and let go. “You’re a brave girl. I’ll make sure your bro doesn’t get in trouble, either.”

“You better!”

 

_Stanford_

Mabel walked with Stanford into the museum. She held onto Stanford’s hand with a bright smile. Stanford put on a small, fake smile to hide his own nervousness. He hoped his own sleepless appearance wasn’t off-putting. On occasion, a few people would pass them. Though they didn’t speak, they could see it in their eyes. _“Cute kid!”_ Stanford was a very smart man and very good at plans. Pretending to be family to a time-traveling girl, though? Well, she resembled him a bit, thankfully. Her long brown hair was not nearly as curly as his–it was just a bit wavy–but her deep brown eyes were identical to him and she had that same medium build his own mother had. Could she be distantly related to him somehow…?

Stanford shook off the thought as they passed through the museum. “Where did you want to go, again?”

“Over here! By the mining place!” Mabel exclaimed and pointed down a corridor. “I wanna see the pioneers!” She led them through a hallway with the pioneers and some of the mining section, but she didn’t pause. Eventually, they came across a room covered wall-to-wall in eyes, pictures of eyes, sculptures of eyes, and diagrams of eyes. Mabel didn’t hesitate to press the bit of stone jutting out of the wall with a crossed-out eye carved into it. She looked up at him. “Now be very quiet.” She let go of his hand and walked over to the left wall, which opened to reveal a staircase. Stanford, dumbfounded, quietly followed her down the stairs.

Mabel stopped behind a set of curtains and put her fingers to her lips again. Stanford nodded and stopped beside her. He couldn’t help but peak around the velvety red curtains. A chair, its bottom and front plushy, was in the center of the room. A chest on a raised pedestal was nearby. The rest of the room looked like it could have once been an Egyptian section, but was reformatted to be used as something not related to the museum.

A few people in maroon robes walked in the edges of Stanford’s vision. He knew those robes! He knew the maroon robes with the red crossed-out-eyes on the fronts of the hoods. Those were same people who’d thrown trash cans at him when he attempted to follow them and inquire about their allegiance. Fiddleford _couldn’t_ be part of this. There was no way. He had to be a victim of this awful place, not some sort of cultist.

Eventually, the robed people were gone. Only one remained. The robed person approached the chest and opened it. Within the chest was the memory gun Fiddleford had made after the Gremloblin attack. Stanford narrowed his eyes beneath his glasses. A long nose and small chin was hidden beneath the shadow of the hood. Small, round glasses perched on his nose. Long fingers inspected the machinery to be sure of its working order.

Mabel patted his knee. Stanford jumped and looked down. The girl held out her hand and then walked into the room. “Mr. McGucket?”

The robed man jumped and looked up. He set the gun back down inside of the chest. “Well, howdy there, little girl.” That was his former assistant’s voice. “What are you doin’ all the way down here?”

Mabel stopped in front of the man. She held her hands behind her back. “Mr. McGucket, we really, really, _really_ need your help. You’re really good with machines and junk, right?”

“Yes Ah am.”

“Here!” Mabel plucked a bag out of her sweater and held it up. The time machine was within it.

Stanford put a hand on his pocket. Had she _pickpocketed him?_ What had Stanley been teaching that girl?

Mabel went on as Fiddleford picked up the bag. “Mr. McGucket, my brother and I really need your help fixing that. Um… G- Stanley and Stanford tried helping us, but they’re not good with machines.”

Fiddleford’s grip on the bag tightened a bit. “Stanford?”

Mabel nodded with a hum. “He’s the scientist guy here, right? Yeah. It’s a long story. He said that you weren’t home often because he tried calling you a lot and you wouldn’t pick up. But that’s okay.”

“Little girl, how’d ya find me?”

“I know lots of things,” Mabel explained. “I need your help. Pretty please? You know how to fix machines and junk, right? You’ll help me?”

Fiddleford hesitated. “Ah’m real sorry, little lady, but… Ah’m not a research assistant anymore. Why are ya down here, anyway? Did someone help ya down?”

Mabel shook her head and then hesitated. “Well, sorta. I- I just- um-” Mabel shuffled her feet as she tried to come up with an excuse.

Stanford sighed. He couldn’t take watching her flounder about for a nondescript explanation that wouldn’t ruin the timelines or what have you. So, Stanford walked out from behind the curtains to join Mabel. Fiddleford froze as he saw him. “I’m… sorry, Fiddleford. I led her here. She really needs your help and I can’t help her.”

“H-how? How? How? How’d you know–?”

Stanford clapped Mabel on the shoulder. “It’s a long story. You were right, Fiddleford. You were very right and I didn’t listen to you. But this isn’t for me.”

Fiddleford looked down at Mabel and then back up at him. “Ya never told me you’d called yer brother back.”

Stanford shook his head. “That’s because I didn’t. Mabel called him back. You don’t have to come back with me. But would you at least look over that machine she has?”

“What is it?” Fiddleford prompted and he looked over the time machine. “This isn’t a measurin’ tape.”

“It isn’t.” Stanford lowered his voice. “It’s a time machine.”

Fiddleford stared at him. “A time machine?”

Mabel nodded. “Yep! It’s mine. And it broke. So, I’m looking for someone to fix it!” Her smile faltered a bit. “Can you fix it? Please? My brother and I can’t go home without it!”

Fiddleford looked over the object. He sighed. “Perhaps. Ah’d have ta- oof!” He huffed as Mabel launched herself at him and wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you, _thank you!_ ” she squealed.

Fiddleford smiled and ruffled her hair. “Aw, it’s no problem, girly. Ah’ll try ma best.”

 

_Stanley_

Stanley sat down by Dipper. “So, how’d you end up here?”

Dipper sighed. “I tried curing myself by traveling back in time to prevent me from finding the curse in the first place. But, uh, Mabel thought it was a bad idea and we started traveling through different times and places. We ended up in Gravity Falls, where a Kill Billy attacked us and threw us off a cliff. Mabel saved us. But, uh, the time machine broke and I accidently teleported here without her. Didn’t she tell you this?”

“Yep.” Stanley nodded. “I just wanted to make sure she wasn’t blaming herself. So, this magical curse turned you into a deer kid or whatever?”

“Yeah. Everyone who drank or came in contact with the water was cursed to become some sort of monster that reflected their personality. Mabel turned into a mermaid.” He rolled his eyes. “She had to stay in the water all the time so they hooked up a water cooler to me like a wagon and we moved around like that. Eventually, she turned back into a girl. I don’t know how. No one does. We just… started turning back into people. My two great uncles and I are the only ones who aren’t human. I’m determined to find a cure.”

Stanley nodded. “Your sister is a fierce girl. So, who are your great uncles, anyway?”

Dipper looked up at him. “Well… Mabel told you we’re time travelers so… heh. They’re a bit young to be really taking care of us. In the future, they’re really great, though. I, um… don’t want to say too much in case we destroy the timelines or something.”

“Ah. So, they’re someone we know.” Stanley looked around the living room. It had been cleaned up a bit, but it was still pretty messy. Same old Stanford. He got focused on whatever he was doing so much that he never cleaned up after himself. Then again, Stanley’d been no better.

“Yep.”

“If you give me hint…?”

“You’d probably guess. You’re pretty smart.”

Stanley looked back down at him. _What?_ Of all the things that boy could have said… he was just sucking up to him. But why would he do that? Mabel had already said that she thought Stanley was great and she’d already told Stanley the twins were close as peas in a pod. Stanford seemed to like him. Besides, nothing Stanley would say could get through Stanford’s thick head.

“Uh… did I say something wrong?”

“Huh?” Stanley pulled himself back to reality as Dipper spoke to him. The boy had a nervous look about him again. “Oh, uh, no. Just, uh… guess so. Ford would probably guess right. You never told him, did you?”

Dipper shook his head. “Nope. You know, he never even asked.” Dipper smiled. “I had to tell him about Mabel. I guess he was interested in where our parents were, though.”

Stanley rolled his eyes. “Yeah, that’s him. Not really interested in people.” So, if Stanford had asked, Dipper would gladly tell him.

Dipper’s smile was lost. “Oh, uh, I’m sorry. But, uh, I didn’t–wouldn’t–tell him either, you know. I think that’s what you’re thinking, right? I mean, you guys are brothers so I kind of just assumed you’d talk to each other, especially about, you know, cool things like the future and stuff.”

Stanley perked up. Whoa. Dipper wasn’t seriously talking about… “So.” Stanley started out casually. “We, uh, talk a lot in the future, right?”

Dipper’s nervousness came back. This time, a few beads of sweat appeared on his forehead. “Did I say that? Uh, yeah. Of course. I mean, that’s what you do all the time, right? I kind of just assumed… um… heh. Sorry, I didn’t… ahem.” Dipper looked into the living room, breaking any hope of eye contact. “Mabel and I are twins, too, and we sometimes fight but we’re there for each other so I just thought… um… never mind.”

Stanley didn’t speak right away. Dipper… was a kid, a lot like Mabel in some ways.

_“Hey, uh, Ford?”_

_“…yeah?”_

_“Sorry.”_

_“Sorry?”_

_“Yeah. Sorry for, um, breaking that really cool jar you had with that head thingy in it.”_

_“It was pretty fragile, yeah. …what’s that?”_

_“I got you a new jar.”_

_“You… got me a new jar?”_

_“Yeah, dude! It’s pretty cool, right? I even put your name on the bottom.”_

_“‘Sixer’s jar. Do not break.’ Stanley, oh my God.”_

_“So, um, still bros?”_

_“When did we stop being brothers?”_

What Stanley would give to go back to those times. Sure, Crampelter was a plague, but he was nowhere near as bad as the thugs and drug lords like Rico, who’d sooner kill his two-faced run away then just beat him up and throw him back on the beach. Sure, Dad was an ass, but Stanley could always leave the house and wander the beach.

Stanley glanced at Dipper. That boy had a time machine…

Stanley shook the thought immediately. Time machines couldn’t turn your age back and it wasn’t like Stanley could just _forget_ about all this. It’s not like Stanford would forgive or forget. Like Stanford should forgive him, anyway. God, where did they go so wrong?

_“That clown? At this rate, he’ll be lucky to graduate high school. Look, there’s a saltwater taffy store on the dock. And somebody’s gotta get paid to scrape the barnacles off of it. Stanford’s goin’ places. But hey, look on the bright side: at least you’ll have one son here in New Jersey forever.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Que: Fiddleford! It's taken eight chapters to find the person all four people needed to fix the time machine in the first place and also my favorite character. Also, this takes place between "Day 22" and "Day 74" in the tapes, back when Fiddleford was still the leader of the Blind Eye. Those tapes were heartbreaking, but since I'm absolutely evil toward my characters- actually, that probably slides into spoilers for my _"Our Uncle Who Lives in the Woods"_ fic. Whoops.  
>  Also, almost any reason to use a flashback I'm happy with. Weep whomp!  
> Also, also: I really like this title. I mean, it's nothing like "The Author of the Journals... My Brother" or "When Are We?" but it's fun. I love these titles. I love this fic. Eee! I just love everything about the Monsterfalls and Timestuck AU! Eee I'm never getting over it. I love Relativity Falls, but Monsterfalls will forever be my favorite.


	9. Oh no! The Time Thingy! It's Busted! Can You Fix It?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fiddleford has joined them and promised to help.

_Dipper_

Dipper didn’t look up at Stanley. He shouldn’t, he couldn’t. Dipper knew full well Stanley and Stanford had an awful relationship. He knew that Stanley knew Mabel was a time traveler that practically “knew everything”. Ugh, Mabel, why? Stanley wouldn’t believe him if Dipper feigned cluelessness. Besides, that short conversation had turned Stanley’s casually curious speech into a depressing one. Although Stanley didn’t show it, Dipper could feel the sadness and frustration in his voice.

His great uncle had lost everything after one stupid mistake. God, what if Dipper- no. No, he shouldn’t think like that. Dipper and Mabel were really close. They were best friends. Sure, they fought, but they always made up in the end. Mabel would never hurt Dipper’s chances of going anywhere that could determine his future and Dipper likewise. Even if she did, Dipper would know it was an accident, it had to be. Mabel would never do that. They were best friends. Stanley and Stanford had been best friends, though…

“Hey, uh, kid.”

Dipper looked up at him again. Stanley wasn’t looking at him. “Yeah?”

“I know what you’re thinkin’,” Stanley stated, his voice plain. “Mabel’s the sweetest girl I know. When she told me about how she got there, she didn’t say a bad thing about you. She loves you.”

Dipper nodded. “Yeah. I love her, too. We’re best friends.”

The front door opened.

Dipper and Stanley looked back. Mabel raced into the room, squealing her high-pitched, mosquito squeak. “Dipper! Mr. McGucket came back! He said he’d help us!”

“He’s alright?”

“Yeah! He is!”

Dipper smiled. “That’s so cool!”

Stanford, walking at a brisk pace, entered the room next. Fiddleford, the time machine gently held in his pocket, walked into the living room, too. He was in a relatively clean suit and tie and out of those maroon robes that still gave Dipper goosebumps. He stopped upon seeing Dipper. “Oh. You, uh, are you Dipper?”

Dipper nodded. “Yeah. I’m a human, though. Really. But… it’s a long story. So, you can fix it? We can go home?”

Fiddleford nodded. “Ah believe Ah can. Ah’ll need some time, but Ah think Ah can get this thing runnin’ again.”

Mabel flopped down by Dipper. “I told you I could find him!”

Dipper couldn’t help but smile. “I didn’t doubt you for a second!”

“Yes, you did.”

“Yeah, I kinda did.”

Stanford looked at his former partner. “You can, uh… I still have all my things where they were before. You can use those if you need to.”

“Uh, thanks, Stanford. Ah appreciate it.” Fiddleford’s voice was a bit clipped. But it wasn’t clipped like Stanley’s, where he was angry with him. It was just… awkward.

Dipper looked at Mabel. She, smiling as wide as when she won Waddles, leaned toward him. “We have a few days. We can fix these broken teacups.”

Dipper’s grin fell a bit. “I don’t know…”

“Dipper! Nothing is stronger than the power of Mabel!”

Dipper didn’t respond. When Mabel put her mind to helping someone, there was no shaking her off or telling her otherwise. She was determined to make people happy. She was determined to make the world a better place. Admittedly, Dipper… respected and hoped for that.

 

_Mabel_

Mabel looked between the three men in the room. Stanley and Stanford kept sending weird glances at each other. On occasion, though, they’d tip their heads in the very slightest or glance at the kids if one looked to start up an argument.

Hmm… these two needed to settle their differences alone. How would they be able to do that…? Mabel looked at Dipper. Of course! “Hey, Dipper?”

Dipper’s ears flicked forward. “Yeah?”

“Do you want to go see if the magic stream is here?” Mabel prompted.

Dipper looked at his hands. “Well, I would but… I can’t run around.”

“Then you need deer crutches! Ford said he knew how to make them!” Stanford winced. “We can go out and make sure that it’s not here so _they_ don’t get cursed.”

Dipper hunched his shoulders. “Well…” He met her gaze. _Come on, Dipper, we’re not actually concerned about the stream, right?_ Dipper’s ears flicked forward. “You know, that’s a good idea. Uh, Ford? Mabel and I want to make sure that the magic stream isn’t here so you guys don’t get turned into monsters. Is that okay?”

Stanford bit his tongue. “I don’t think it’s wise for you two to be going out on your own.”

Dipper waved his hand. “We’ve done it before. We’ve taken on plenty of things!”

“Plus, we have that place watch!” Mabel pointed to the wristwatch Dipper had.

“That’s true…” Stanford agreed.

“What? They’re _twelve_ , Poindexter! Didn’t you say there were monsters around here or something?” Stanley immediately cut in.

Mabel pointed to Dipper. “Monster.”

“I’m not!” Dipper squawked. “I’m still a person! I’m just… cursed. We won’t be out for long, G- Ford. Really.”

“They have a point,” Stanford stated slowly. “Besides, if they run into any trouble, they _do_ have that teleporter. That and Dipper hasn’t moved from his spot in days.”

Stanley sighed. “They can run around in the yard.” He looked between them. “But whatever. You be careful out there, alright?”

Mabel nodded with a grin. “We’ll be careful!”

 

Soon enough, Dipper was strapped down to a wheelchair and the younger twins left the Shack. Dipper, once they were in the tree line, took out Journal 3 and looked through it. “And… here! Okay, so, the stream should be this way.” Dipper looked up. They were already walking in the right direction.

Mabel held her hands behind her back. “They just need to hug it out! I’m sure that with enough hard work and patience, we can make them both happy!”

Dipper nodded. “I hope so.”

Mabel’s smile was lost. “Don’t look so down, Dipper! We’ll get this fixed.”

Dipper sighed. “Mabel, I… I don’t know.” He looked back at his sister. “What if we can’t? What if they don’t forgive each other by the time Mr. McGucket fixes the time machine?”

“We can stay after, right?”

Dipper shook his head. “Mabel, we’ve messed up the timelines enough. What if… what if there isn’t a future to go back to?”

“No!” Mabel squawked and shoved him. “Don’t talk like that Dipper! We just need to work hard. Everything will turn out alright in the end!”

Dipper frowned. “Well, whatever we do, we need to do it before Mr. McGucket fixes that time machine. Once he fixes it, we’ll have to leave. Unless we’ve stopped Mr. McGucket from using the Memory Gun, he’ll go crazy after we leave. Unless they make up, Grunkle Stan will just leave again- or worse. Great Uncle Ford could try and make him leave with the first journal and then Grunkle Ford’ll get stuck in the portal for thirty years!”

“Why can’t we stay after?” Mabel crossed her arms.

“Because if we stay here for too long- don’t you remember the time police? What happened after we stole Blendin Blandin’s time machine? The time police went after him! When we used it for Soos’ birthday, we had to fight in Globnar! Who knows what we’ll have to do next!” Dipper threw his hands in the air. “We might get locked in time jail like Blendin! We have to leave as soon as possible.”

Mabel frowned and looked at the forest before her. “I’m sure we’ll get them to make up before then.”

“Let’s hope so.” Dipper sighed and stopped. A little stream bubbled over the rocks “The stream. Is it poisoned?”

Mabel touched the water and licked her finger. “Nope! Just a regular stream.”

Dipper sighed. “Okay, good!” A small smile crept up on him. “You wanna go see the lake?”

 

_Stanford_

Stanford watched the two leave before he turned to Stanley. “Okay, Stanley, here’s the deal.” He took a deep breath. “For as long as it takes the two to go home, I will let you stay here to watch them. But!” Stanford was quick to get to the hitch of his deal. “Once this time travel mess is over–”

“-you’ll throw me out,” Stanley finished, crossing his arms. “Humph. Yeah, I pretty much predicted you’d say that.”

“Stanley, look. This isn’t…” Stanford fumbled over his words for a bit. _Shit._ He really should learn to use his words more carefully… especially since Stanley can be quite hotheaded and jump to conclusions easily. “Those kids–Dipper and Mabel–sought us both out. That I understand. I know… there is more going on than Dipper has told me. Unless Mabel’s told you anything of importance…?”

Stanley put down the flicker of hope that had crossed into his eyes. Even after years of separation and hell, Stanford could tell what Stanley was thinking. “No. She told me she was a time traveler and that she had a time machine and that her brother had this teleporter. I never really thought to ask.”

“You weren’t curious?” It was Stanford’s turn to be surprised.

Stanley shrugged. Oh, he was curious, definitely. There was no mistaking it. He just didn’t want to admit it. “She’s twelve, Sixer. She knows a lot for a twelve-year-old, but her brother’s a deer and she doesn’t even know _what_ she has. She knows it’s a time machine, but I know that, too. She couldn’t tell me any more about it than I could tell you.” He smirked. “I bet she has time traveler parents and the kids took that thing for a spin and broke it on the way.”

Stanford nodded. “That… seems plausible. Dipper seems to have some semblance of knowledge about the timelines. But he’s very good at dodging whatever I ask him. In fact, I only found out he had the teleporter around the time you and Mabel arrived. But he’d know the ins and outs of that machine if he was sincerely a time traveler.” He shook his head. “Wait, wait. I’m getting off track.” Stanford took a deep breath. “For some reason, two time traveling children–one of whom in cursed–with a broken time machine sought us both out. Right now isn’t the best time to reconcile, Stanley.” _Don’t back down, now. He’ll find out one way or the other. At least if he knows now, he’ll leave as soon as he gets the chance. Wait… what if he leaves with Mabel and Dipper before the machine’s fixed up? Any sane person would do that. Oh no. Nope. Nope, nope, nope. Not the time. Maybe later._ “We have much work to do and I don’t have a spare room. You can take the attic for now, but I have quite a bit of important work I need to get done. So, I won’t be able to watch the children as well as I should.”

Stanley narrowed his eyes. “You didn’t look that busy volunteering yourself to go to the museum.”

“We needed to find Fiddleford,” Stanford crossed. “That’s different.”

Stanley leaned on the wall behind him. His shoulder touched the doorway into the next room. Just a few feet away, Fiddleford was at the table. He didn’t seem to even know that they were there. A smirk crossed Stanley’s features. Oh no. “Oh, so you’re too busy to give your brother a call but as soon as Fiddleford’s mentioned you’re jumping at the chance to grab him?”

“Stanley, Fiddleford’s our best chance at fixing this thing. I don’t know if I told you that already, but he’s a mechanical genius.”

Fiddleford, having caught his name multiple times in just a few sentences, glanced up at them. He didn’t chip in or give away his acknowledgment of the argument.

Stanley snickered. “Oh right, right. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you found yourself a boyfriend while you were at college.”

“Stanley Pines!” Stanford barked. “What the- he’s my friend and former partner! Our relationship is purely platonic.”

Fiddleford couldn’t help but laugh. “Stanley, you do realize Ah’m very happily married an’ Ah have a son at home?”

Stanley leaned toward him. “You told him that, right?”

“Yes, Ah did.”

 

_Stanley_

The look on Stanford’s face would have been enough to kill Stanley. It’s funny how many different colors Stanford could turn, even as an adult. Stanford’s voice was clipped and hard, a sign of his indignant, embarrassed anger. “He was my partner in college and my research assistant here, _not_ a romantic partner!” Okay, this was getting into a new kind of funny. Stanley had only been joking but… Hot Belgium Waffles, Stanford was _flustered!_

“Really?” Stanley raised an eyebrow at him. “No, that’s why you didn’t call me. You were too busy with your boyfriend, weren’t you?”

“He is _not_ my boyfriend, Stanley! I’m your brother, might I remind you! I’m not your sister!” _“I’m your brother, might I remind you!”_

Stanley laughed. “That’s rich, coming from you! You don’t act like my brother. No letters, no asking about me- hell, you never even called to ask if I was still alive!” Alright, Stanley. It’s kind of not funny anymore.

“And you never called me. I’ve been in the same place for six damn years! Before that, I was still in New Jersey! Not to mention I didn’t change my phone number. If you’d wanted a chat, you’d have called me.” Stanford rolled his eyes. “I’m not the villain here, Stanley.”

Okay, _what?_ Stanley pushed himself away from the wall. “Then I guess it’s me? _Again?_ Always ‘Stanley’s the screw-up, Ford’s the hero’! It’s not like anyone complained when I was kicked out of New Jersey. Not like anyone _cared._ ”

Stanford huffed. “Don’t- You got _yourself_ thrown out of New Jersey. You do this to yourself and you won’t even take responsibility- not when you’re _seventeen,_ not when your _twenty-seven._ You’re just selfish and irresponsible and taking it out on me! You don’t know what I’ve been through!”

Stanley bristled. “No, no. You don’t understand what _I’ve_ been through! I’ve been to prison in three different countries! I once had to chew my way out of the _trunk of a car!_ You think you’ve got problems? I’ve got _a mullet_ , Stanford! Meanwhile, where have you been? Living it up in your fancy house in the woods! Selfishly hoarding your college money, because you only care about yourself,” he snarled, glowering at his brother, well aware he wasn’t speaking at an appropriate level anymore. _I dare you, Stanford._

“I’m selfish? _I’m selfish_ , Stanley? How can you say that after costing me my dream school?!” Stanford yelled back.

Then, the time for words was starting to wind to a close. Fiddleford–the only other person in the room and the only rational one–got up and slipped out of the room, clutching the time machine with the care of brittle glass.

Stanley was the one to throw the first punch. Stanford was not at all reluctant to hit back. The two’s fight quickly turned into a grapple laced with insults and heartbreak. “It was supposed to be us forever! You ruined my life!” Stanley barked, shoving Stanford back into a wall, where he broke a shelf.

“You ruined your own life!” Stanford countered, kicking him square in the chest. Stanley let go and hit the door to the kitchen. He grabbed onto the lip of the doorway, barely managing not to get his fingers hooked between the cracked door and the doorframe.

 _It was all because of that stupid science fair, wasn’t it?_ No matter what Stanley said, he knew he was in the wrong. He’d broken that dumb experiment because he _was_ the selfish one. He didn’t think of it as anything but an accident because he was too irresponsible to own up to the fact that he had been jealous. He _was_ just the dumber, sweatier version of Stanford. He was the spare, the throw-away, the one only good enough for a kidney transplant if Stanford fell ill or a cushion if Stanford was ever pushed down. Stanley just didn’t want to accept that and ended up dragging them both down with him. At least Stanford got a nice house, a nice partner, and all the mysteries he could play with.

The door to the kitchen buckled and broke, sending Stanley sprawling over the linoleum amongst wood splinters and a metal handle he didn’t remember grabbing. Oh, ow. _Ow._ Stanley put a hand to his head and glared up. “Oh no. I’m so sorry! Are you alright?” Stanford’s words came back to him. Although he’d have listened to him normally–in fact, some small part of him was alerted by the sudden change in tone Stanford had taken–pain and hate caused him to kick the thing closest as he tried to get up.

Stanford yelped and stumbled back, a hand over his lower stomach. He coughed and held onto the doorframe to the hallway containing the front door and stairs with a shaky hand. Stanley’s snarl faded a bit. He clambered to his feet. “Stanford?” Aw, damn. He’d forgotten how much stronger he was than Stanford. He didn’t internally kill him, did he? “Are you alright?”

Stanford glanced up at him with watery eyes. He wheezed and, after a hollow cough, shook his head. “No. Er- yes.” He took a few deep breaths. “Yeah.” His voice was a bit stronger this time. He looked up and then around the room. “Oh.”

“Oh wha-?” Oh _that._ The door in the kitchen had broken a hinge. The only thing clinging to the other two hinges was a few long splinters that had stayed intact. The rest of the door was in pieces on the linoleum. A few shelves were broken on the walls and a few things trampled or kicked pushed up against the wall. One of the chairs was upside down, but it would live, probably. The door to the entrance room was cracked.

 _“Hey, Dipper!”_ Mabel’s yell came from far away. _“I betcha I can get back to the Shack first!”_

 _“Nuh-uh! I’m still faster than you!”_ came Dipper’s voice.

The older twins winced and not just because of their newly acquired bruises. Did Stanley get cut somewhere along the way? Oh, Stanford wasn’t standing up straight and still had an arm over his stomach.

There was a pause. Then–

 _“DIPPER!”_ Mabel’s terrified scream came from the forest, just past the tree line. Stanley opened the front door. Dipper stumbled as he came to a stop. _“THERE’S A GREMY-THINGY HERE!”_

Dipper sucked in his breath and looked around. “I’ll be right there!” He grabbed the side mirror from Stanley’s car.

“Hey!” Stanley couldn’t help but yell. _What happened to Mabel?_ “What’s going on?”

“Gremloblin!” Dipper yelled and, clutching the sideview mirror line a lifeline, struggled to hop away. He untied the ropes binding him and turned his stumble into a smooth bound. He easily cleared obstacles with feet to spare or darted around or between them with ease. Pink bloomed on his bandages as a stitch tore.

“Gremloblin?” Stanley turned back to his brother.

Stanford had paled considerably and his eyes grew round as moons. He grabbed the crossbow from beside the front door and sprinted into the yard. “Don’t look it directly in the eyes! Stay calm, we’re coming to get you!”

“What’s a gremloblin?” Stanley shouted after Stanford, taking off as well. Fiddleford, what looked like a bulbous gun in his hands, stood frozen at the door. “What the hell are you waiting for, Fiddlestick?”

A deep, throaty snarl emitted from the forest. Stanley pushed himself to run faster. He snatched a branch from a tree as he ran past one. Stanford stumbled as he ran. Fiddleford, moving as if he was being physically pulled, ran after them.

Dipper bleated as he saw the creature Mabel faced off against. The gargantuan creature stood on two legs and one hefty arm. One meaty hand grabbed Mabel, who struggled violently. Her eyes were shut tight to keep from meeting its gaze. Stanford and Fiddleford stopped dead in their tracks. Fiddleford paled considerably. Stanford’s grip on his crossbow tightened. Stanley ran ahead. “What the hell is that?”

“A gremloblin,” Stanford stated briskly. He raised his voice. “Don’t look into its eyes!”

“It’s eyes?” Stanley prompted. He looked at the branch in his hand–which was much to hefty to throw–and then the monster. He took something out of his pocket and whistled. The gremloblin’s ears flicked forward at the noise. It roared and shook its head as Stanley’s mostly empty water bottle struck it straight in the eye.

Stanford gasped. “Oh no! Stanley you _idiot!_ You can’t throw water on a gremloblin!”

“What? Why not?!”

The monster fell forward, snarling and shuttering. Spikes popped out of its back and wings sprouted from its shoulders. It tipped its head back and roared, bursting a hole in the canopy with a stream of hot fire.

“ _That_ will happen.”

Stanley snapped a glare at his brother. “Then how do we kill this thing?!”

“I-I don’t know!” Stanford admitted. “I hit it on the head with my magnet gun last time we- oh no. Stanley, don’t!”

Stanford was too late. Stanley had charged the monster. The gremloblin dropped Mabel and swatted the branch out of Stan’s hands. Stan, glaring straight into the monster’s eyes like he’d done with every other monster he’d faced off again, froze. His deep brown eyes turned gold.

_Stanley put a hand on his head. There was nothing in his hands. He was on his knees. Huh? What was he doing on his knees in some sort of metal room? Wasn’t he in the forest in front of his brother’s cabin? Stanley looked about with bleary eyes. Where was he? Where was the… monster…_

_Stanley’s eyes widened. He scrambled to his feet and ran forward. The forest monster wasn’t there. Smeared against the gray was red. There was a door nearby, he just noticed that. It was open and led out into a cluttered little pawn shop. Someone stood above him. He wore a familiar face, one he’d seen so many times, none in good circumstance. A gun was in the man’s hands, but that’s not what mattered. What mattered was the mess before him._

_In a heap of bloody clothes was his frazzled old brother. One six fingered hand was on the ground pointed toward a shattered crossbow. His other hand–one finger cut off–rested by his face, covering a bullet wound. Nearby, curled up around a wound in her belly, was little Mabel. Dipper was there, his body shot through like a buck. The slender form of Stan’s mother was there in the carnage as was the massive form of their father. No one moved, not even a little to show any type of breathing._

_Stanley, choking on words, looked up. Rico spoke, his voice colder than ice, his smile venomous as a viper’s. “Congratulations, Stanley. Your debt’s been paid.”_

Dipper reared, holding his front legs up to his chest and wobbling a bit on his back ones. He was taller than Stan, now. “Hey, monster!” The infuriated gremloblin whipped around and glowered at him. Dipper held the mirror between him and the monster. “Take a look at this!”

The gremloblin snarled and glowered at the mirror Dipper held. However, after only a few seconds staring into its own glowing gold eyes in the mirror, it shrieked, dropped Stanley’s gaze, and clumsily ran off into the forest, hands over its eyes and feet breaking branches and trampling brush as he went. It sprouted wings and launched itself into the air, breaking a few trees as it went. Stanley shook his head and blinked the gold out of his eyes. The smells and sounds of the forest and his very alive family came back to him.

Mabel sat up. “Haha! Yeah!” She jumped up and held up her hand. “Mystery Twins!”

“Mystery Twins!” Dipper fist-bumped her, laughing as well. He looked back with a wide grin. Stanford and Fiddleford stared at the duo. Stanford’s crossbow fell out of his hands.

Stanley rubbed his eyes and laughed. “Ha! That beast ran cryin’!”

Mabel nodded. “We beat one of those things before!”

Dipper sat down. “Yep. Mabel accidently threw water on it.”

“You caught it!” Mabel was quick to remind him.

Stanley huffed. “Now that sounds like a story.”

“Is it ever!”

Stanford cleared his throat and picked up his weapon. “You’ve defeated one of those… _before?”_

The twins nodded. “Yep,” Dipper confirmed. “It’s a really long story, but we managed to drive one off that broke into the Shack!”

“You kinda trapped it and brought it back, bro.”

“I kept it in a locked cage,” Dipper denied. “You gave it the key.”

“It was a staff member! Sorta!”

*          *          *          *          *

Mabel threw her hands up in the air. “And then it grabbed me! Dipper said not to look into its evil eyes because you could see your worst nightmare. So, I said: ‘I wish we had an evil eye we could give it’!”

Dipper nodded. “I mean, I was surprised we didn’t think of it earlier. What could defeat a stage two gremloblin? A mirror! It saw its own worst nightmare and ran away- er, flew away.”

“Fascinating,” Stanford breathed, his journal in his hands. “And neither of you were affected by the monster’s gaze?”

Dipper shook his head. Mabel admitted, “I kinda saw it, but only for, like, a second.”

“Man, yeah,” Dipper agreed, his smile leaving him a bit. “I couldn’t imagine a worst nightmare.”

Mabel looked at him and nodded, her own smile falling a bit. “Yeah.” She brightened again. “But we never saw it again! And we fixed up the Shack good as new.”

Stanley watched the two talk. Dinner–which Stanley insisted he make since Stanford didn’t know the right end of a spatula and he was supposed to switch out Dipper’s stitches again–was spread out around them and mostly eaten. Well, some food still stuck to Mabel’s and Dipper’s plates. It was most likely due to the fact that neither of them had stopped talking. Stanley was oddly fine with that. These kids weren’t annoying, which he was a bit surprised by. Maybe it’s because they saved the day. Maybe it’s because when he saw Mabel chatter on in much grandeur about the monster they’d found and Dipper added some details for clarification, he was reminded of another duo of kids that would do that.

_“An’ it was this big! Seriously! It could’ve eaten us!”_

_“It was very large- bigger than Mrs. Nancy’s dog.”_

_“And we beat it back with a stick!”_

_“We found a plank nearby. This one didn’t shatter immediately.”_

_“It ran cryin’! You shoulda seen it!”_

“And then we fixed up the Shack good as new and no one would’ve been the smarter.” Mabel nodded her head. “Except, uh…”

“The bills,” Dipper replied. “And the whole thing from Soos. He was there, kinda.”

Stanley tried not to look at that southerner mechanic cultist or whatever. The man kept sending odd glances his way. The way he looked at that gremloblin… that man had to know something he wasn’t letting on. Maybe Stanford wasn’t the only expert on them.

Stanford.

Stanley kept his plastic smile and tried focusing on the kids. Mabel was telling another tale now. Gnomes? Yeah, something to do with gnomes. Dipper rolled his eyes. Still, Stanley couldn’t focus on him. Weird. In that fight, as he looked up into that monster’s eyes, he… wasn’t there.

Stanley tried to shake the thought, but it wouldn’t leave him. Even though it had only been a few seconds, the image of his mistakes lashing out at others stuck with him. Even after he’d opened his eyes to see the terrified monster fleeing, it had taken a moment to collect himself enough to know he was in the forest with his living family. It took him a moment to make himself presentable, as if nothing had happened.

Maybe that’s why that Fiddleford guy was looking at him. Maybe he knew people saw horrible things when you looked into its eyes. What if he’d been a victim of its gaze? What if… that guy knew how to help with it? To solve it? To somehow make him unsee this? He’d have to ask him later. It was probably nothing. You couldn’t just erase memories. Though, if you could, if someone _could_ erase bad memories, that would be… well, that would solve a lot of problems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...would it help if I said it hurt to write this? Hahaha... yeah. These broken teacups might need a bit more than hugs to be fixed. Also: I finally put a time limit on this thing! So, sorry, it's not going to last forever. /shrugs Oh well. Hopefully they'll reconcile and Fiddleford won't get hurt by the Memory Gun and everything will turn out hunky-dory soon! :D
> 
> Also, I'm 85% sure Stanley would get very addicted to the Memory Gun, just like Fiddleford... but for different reasons, obviously.


	10. Back in the Olden Days, Pioneers Drew Subsistence from Telling Stories ’Round the Fire.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things have been sloping downhill. How about a break?

_Dipper_

Dipper, now in the living room again, yawned and shook himself. Mabel sat beside him, her half-closed eyes playing with knitting needles without thread in her fingers. This must’ve caught the attention of at least someone nearby as only a few seconds passed before the large foot steps of one of their future great-uncles approached them.

Stanley stopped before them. “Huh. Do kids in the future need sleep or somethin’?”

Dipper jolted awake and looked up, ears flicked forward. “Huh?”

Stanley smirked. “It’s time to get you two to bed. Hey, Ford! Where’s their bedroom again?”

Stanford walked in from the storage room. “Well…”

“Don’t say storage room.”

“I wasn’t going to say that!”

“You were.”

Stanford sighed. “Well, I don’t have any spare bedrooms. Livable ones, anyway. But there is a space in the attic.”

Mabel perked up. “Oh, really?” Dipper looked past him to the stairs. Huh. Wonder what the attic’s like thirty years in the past.

“But I don’t think Dipper should be walking upstairs,” Stanford was quick to add.

“I can walk upstairs,” Dipper assured him. “Really! Since I can walk, I can walk upstairs.”

Stanley tipped his head to the attic. “Show us the way, esteemed scientist.”

Stanford narrowed his eyes at Stanley. However, after only a second of internal debate, Stanford turned around and walked upstairs. Dipper shakily got to his hooves and followed them as they walked. It was still difficult to use his back leg, and it still kinda hurt a bit, but he was doing fine. He could walk. He didn’t need to stay in one place for a few weeks. Then again, he was just going to go upstairs to lay down again.

The room Stanford was lending them was a bit more cluttered than they remembered. Instead of being cluttered with toys, papers with theories, books, broken pens, and stuffed animals, there were boxes and gadgets. Rather than boy band posters, there were diagrams. There were a few books stacked in the shelf in the far end of the room, just like in the future. There was the framed picture frame of the giant ship in the stormy sea over where Dipper’s bed would be.

“You can stay here,” Stanford began. “The beds were there in the corner and there are linens in the shelf over here.”

“And where do you want me to put all this nerd junk?” Stanley indicated the obvious obstructions that prevented them from safely and comfortably reaching the places where they’d sleep.

“Right. I’ll take care of those.” Stanford looked over the mess. There wasn’t much in this room, thankfully. Most of it was in the other room in the attic. That room was mostly clear in the future. Grunkle Stan didn’t keep a lot of stuff, did he? At least, a lot of this old stuff.

“Welp. Here we go.” Stanley strolled into the room and picked up a few boxes. Stanford quickly heaved a box of something or other up and waddled out of the room. Stanley snickered at the struggle and followed suit. Mabel, ever helpful, picked up a skeleton and followed them.

When Dipper tried grabbing something, Stanford waved him off with a “Just sit down, the strain won’t be good on your legs.” Dipper didn’t really feel like pushing his luck. He sat down on the bed that would be his in the future.

Soon, the attic was as clear as it was going to get and the beds made. Dipper fell asleep with his legs tucked under him and leaning on the wall and Mabel laying between him and the edge of the bed. When he woke up, he was on his side with his legs splayed to the side. Mabel, having been pushed off the bed, snuggled up to Stanley in the other bed.

 

_Mabel_

Mabel had woken up in the middle of the night on the floor. She’d been pushed off as Dipper rolled onto his back and shoved her in his sleep. So, she got to move beds. She wasn’t complaining, though.

The next morning, she woke up before either of the other two. That was also fine. She got to sneak downstairs, then. There wasn’t nearly enough ingredients for Mabel Juice, unfortunately. Maybe she could convince them to maybe go to the store? Mmmm, maybe.

When she looked up in the pantries, there weren’t nearly enough fun cereals, meaning there was none at all. Was Stanford against fun food? That’s probably why he was so grumpy. There weren’t any boxes with marshmallow-studded cereal in them! There wasn’t any hot cocoa, nor anything to _make_ said hot cocoa from scratch. There was no glitter or sprinkles. All of the food packaging was boring adult food. All sugar was just in its raw sugar form in a boring bag. She considered the thought of eating raw sugar for a moment, but quickly dismissed the idea. She got jittery and weird and _way_ too excited.

After another few minutes of a fruitless search, she heard something shuffle behind her. She turned around. Stanford stood in the doorway, a broom in his hands held like a bat. Mabel cocked her head. Stanford lowered the broom. “Oh, uh, sorry. Thought you were a gnome infestation. Uh, what are you doing down here so early?”

Mabel smiled. “I’m making a surprise! Well, I _was._ Why don’t you have any good cereal?”

“I have plenty of cereal,” Stanford dismissed and put away the broom. “Well, most of it is actually oatmeal.”

“Can we go get some breakfast? Can we _make_ some breakfast?” Mabel prompted.

“Well, it’s a bit early to go out,” Stanford pointed out.

“What if we came back before Dipper and Gr- Stan woke up?” Mabel prompted, her smile getting wider. _They could make a surprise breakfast! Yeah!_

Stanford shook his head. “I’m sure there’s plenty of stuff here. I just went grocery shopping a few days ago.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t get anything _fun_ ,” Mabel pointed out, her smile fading into a pout.

Stanford sighed. “Look, we have plenty of things here. We could make eggs and bacon and some cereal for Dipper. It’ll be fine.”

“Why does Dipper have to eat differently from everyone else?” Mabel prompted, clearly intent on winning this debate with her great uncle. Sure, she might not have won any in the future when he was Mr. Been-With-Aliens-for-Thirty-Years, but this Stanford was different, she knew.

“Your brother can’t eat meat, can he?”

Mabel shook her head. “He can eat eggs. He’s not a veganaterian, Ford!” She grinned. “We can have pancakes! Everyone loves pancakes, right?”

“I think you’re looking for ‘vegan’ but he’s been fine so far,” Stanford pointed out. He seemed to consider his own words, probably the part where he corrected her or probably the part where he realized Dipper never complained. Mabel didn’t speak. She knew what was going on his head. _She knew._ He sighed. “Alright, alright. We’ll get some pancake mix at the store. Put your shoes on.”

Mabel squeaked something that resembled a “Thank you!” before darting up the stairs. She quietly put on her shoes and tip-toed down the stairs again. They were still asleep. This was going to be awesome!

…It turned out to be less awesome then she planned. Unfortunately, Stanford was no good at cooking and Mabel couldn’t cook alone. Stanley and Dipper came downstairs to them trying to control the burnt first batch they’d made. With a sigh, Stanley shooed away his brother and took his place. The cooking of breakfast went a lot smoother after that. Thankfully, Stanley let Mabel dump fun ingredients–anything from berries to chocolate chips to random food found in the cabinet–into the batter. Stanford had insisted on following the instructions, but Stanley didn’t. Fortunately, Mabel planned ahead. She hadn’t planned on the first batch burning, but she did plan on breakfast to take a while to cook.

So, by the time everything was ready and Mabel’s finishing touches had been applied, a knock came at the door. Stanford opened the door for Fiddleford. Although he’d insisted he’d already eaten, Mabel was able to convince him to come to the table, anyway. The table was where family bonding happened! Stanley and Stanford would make up some way or the other. Maybe Fiddleford would be friends with Stanford again and become friends with Stanley. Then Fiddleford wouldn’t have a reason to go crazy! Mabel was a genius.

 

_Stanford_

Stanford, already halfway done with his meal, looked at his brother, who was across the table. He was eating, but he wasn’t looking at him. Fiddleford was with them- right between him and Stanley. Mabel was turned to Dipper, a spoon poised in her grasp. She scooped up a berry and flicked it into the air. She tried to catch it in her mouth, but it bounced off her nose and back onto her plate. Dipper tried and succeeded, causing Mabel to shove him.

Stanford flinched as Dipper’s front hoof came very close to stepping on Stanford’s foot as the boy balanced himself out. “Please, behave at the table.”

The kids looked at him immediately. Dipper nodded. “Okay… Stanford.” The boy still had an odd time trying to say his name. Probably the same reason Mabel considered Fiddleford “Mr. McGucket”; a respect thing.

Mabel grinned. “Hey, Stanford! I bet you can’t catch berries with your face!”

“I’d rather not try.”

Stanley scoffed, “You’re a spoil-sport.”

“I don’t want wasted food on my floor, Stanley.”

Stanley, grinning now that he had his brother’s negative attention, raised his voice. “Wet blanket here! Who wants a wet blanket?” This caused the children to giggle. Fiddleford chuckled, turning his attention on Stanley and Stanford as well. Stanley just got a good look of resentment before Stanford put on that boring look of not caring. If Stanley was going to be a child, Stanford was _not_ stooping to his level.

Stanford sighed, “Stop being so childish, Stanley.”

“Me? Childish? Nah. Mr. Grumpy over here is.” Stanley poked his spoon in his brother’s direction. When he didn’t get the reaction he desired–which honestly was any reaction at all–Stanley went on. “Come on, Poindexter! You used to be so much fun around the dinner table. Like that one time, when we were at Thanksgiving–”

“No! Stanley, don’t you dare!” Stanford snapped out of his unamused skepticism.

“Don’t I dare what?”

“We’re thirty years old, now. That was decades ago.”

Mabel and Dipper grinned. Mabel held up her hands. “Come on, tell us! Tell us! Tell us!”

Dipper picked up the chant. “Tell us! Tell us!”

Fiddleford burst into laughter. “Okay, ah gotta admit- Ah need ta hear this one.”

“Don’t encourage him,” Stanford bleated.

“Okay, so, it was Thanksgiving and we were fourteen.” Stanley quieted the table with the beginning of his story. “The whole family’s gathered around. Well, this year, our aunt brings in the huge apple pie. We weren’t supposed to eat it, right? It was for dinner. But _someone_ decided that since it was a crumbly pie or whatever, we would be able to sneak a few bites without anyone knowing.” Stanley fell into snickering.

“ _Stanford_ suggested ya do somethin’ against the rules?” Fiddleford prompted. “Ah find that a bit hard ta believe. Never once got on a teacher’s bad side or in trouble with the law.”

Stanley laughed. “Oh, you didn’t know him when he was a teenager! So, I told him ‘Dude, we’re gunna get caught!’ But he was like ‘No, if we just stay quiet and don’t bring attention to ourselves, and if we’re careful on what parts we take, then we won’t have any problems.’ So, I brought the plate and a few spoons and Stanford did the operation. Well, once Stanford analyzed the dumb pie and finally started trying to take bits of it, our aunt comes into the kitchen. She starts going off on us. Stanford and I didn’t expect her to be there. So, Stanford screams and falls off the chair he was on.” As Stanley spoke, he threw glances at Stanford. Stanford’s face growing a pretty reddish color. “And when he fell, he brought the pie down with him. Bam! Fourteen-year-old Sixer covered in pie and a new knot on his head. My aunt and I decided that was enough of a punishment. Well, after I got the blackmail picture, that is. The look on his face was _priceless._ ”

Stanford sighed. “Stanley, you have an awful memory. You can’t remember you had homework when teachers reminded you it was due _the day before_ , but you can remember Thanksgiving when we were _fourteen?_ ”

Stanley nodded. “Yep. Come on, Sixer. Math problems are boring. Seeing your kid face covered in apple pie is unforgettable.”

Stanford scoffed, “You just like teasing me.”

Stanley smirked. “Maybe. Oh! I didn’t tell you about when we were sixteen during lunch at school?”

“Stanley, don’t!” Stanford snapped.

Stanley giggled and stared at Stanford, “It was hilarious.”

“It was _not._ ” The redness in his cheeks and nose was deeper, now. _It was not._

“Stop it! It was! So, we were just eatin’ that terrible school food, and Sixer over here is yammering on about physics or whatever. Tryin’ to teach me or somethin’?”

Stanford sighed. “You weren’t doing well in Physics, so I was simply teaching you what you would need on your next test. You didn’t retain it, might I add.”

“Parts of it, probably!” Stanley crossed. “Anyway, so he’s goin’ on about Physics and some jerk decides to throw food at him. Like, a roll or somethin’ dipped in gravy. Hit him straight in the back of the head! Caused him to hit the mashed potatoes he was eatin’. He was _covered_ in food.”

Stanford glowered at him. “Yes. I had to leave just then to wash it all off.”

Mabel frowned. “That’s so sad! Why would they do that?”

“They were jerks,” Stanley explained and then grinned. “But you know what happens to jerks on my watch?”

Mabel’s smile returned. “What?” Stanford perked up. _There was a story beyond that…?_

“Well, I took a good look at the guy who did it, took Ford’s plate, and smashed it against the other dude’s face! He was _covered_ in food. Then his friends come over and they get the potatoes-and-gravy treatment from my lunch. Those guys _tried_ to fight me, of course, but I wouldn’t let any bullies get in our way. I had detention for a month!”

Stanford’s eyebrows furrowed. “I thought you got detention for fighting again.”

“I did,” Stanley stated. “I fought them. What? Why do you look so surprised? It happened all the time!”

“Yeah, I guess it did.” Stanford hesitated. A small smile tugged at his lips. “You know, speaking of trouble with fellow students, that reminds me of when we went to Homecoming. Stanley tried asking a few girls to dance.” Stanley groaned and rolled his eyes. Stanford’s smile matched Stanley’s own devilish grin. “And he tried asking this one girl–I don’t know her name, never told me–and she poured punch on him. When I laughed at him, he threw punch at me.”

Stanley snickered. “If you weren’t the Teacher’s Pet, we’d have _both_ been thrown out. Luckily, suck-up over here convinced the chapeerons to let us stay.”

“Chaperones,” Stanford was quick to correct. He smirked. “Oh, then I guess you remember that Halloween we spent when we were twelve?” Stanford pressed. When he got the petty satisfaction of Stanley’s unamused look–which Stanford swore was fake but honestly he didn’t care–Stanford went on, “Stanley and I wanted to go door-to-door asking strangers for candy. Trick-or-Treating, you know. But Dad wanted to go to a Halloween party, so he dragged us both to the party. Stanley being Stanley took the candy bowl and dumped the entire thing in his bag. Dad was furious.”

Stanley smirked. “I still got the candy.”

“You also got grounded for a month.”

“Worth it.”

“You say that to every misfortune you bring on yourself,” Stanford pointed out.

Stanley scoffed. “Not all of them. Just the good ones.”

The reality of the question hit them both.

Fiddleford glanced between them. “So! Did Ah tell you guys about the first Christmas we spent at college?”

Stanley and the kids grinned and turned their attention on him. Stanford whined, “Fiddleford…”

Fiddleford smiled. “It was nothin’ bad, Stanford!” Stanford huffed.

Stanley’s grin got wider. “Tell us! How’d he spent his first Christmas break with his boyfriend?”

Fiddleford shrugged. “Ah never saw the man, if there was one. So, it’s a good… oh, five, six at night. Ah was convinced everyone was gone. My family lived in Tennessee, y’know, Ah couldn’t go out and find them. So, Ah had to stay. Stanford was still here, though…” Fiddleford launched into the story of how he found out that Stanford lived in the same dorm as Fiddleford. They hadn’t been friends, really, more like acquaintances and class partners at times. Fiddleford had been playing some pretty loud music. Eventually, Stanford got him to shut up simply by showing up and surprising them both. Fiddleford invited him over for hot cocoa and, eventually, coaxed him into going out. They became friends over that winter break. As they’d gotten to know each other a bit better and in less a formal way, they were both open to teasing.

“An’ then he managed to take me down with ’im! We were both soaked and cold by the end a’ the night. Had ta close down the lake so no one else would fall in.”

Stanford huffed, “Yes, I almost got hypothermia.”

“That hot temper of yours prevented it, though.”

“Shut it.” Stanford threw a glare at Fiddleford, but it wasn’t sincere. His smile returned as he looked over the kids, both very eager to hear another story. One about Stanley floundering about after being told not to do something would be a fitting tale.

“…and then this knucklehead decides to dive head-first into it.” Stanford jabbed his thumb at Stanley.

“Yeah? At least I wasn’t a wimp!” Stanley countered.

“You were nearly bitten! By a _shark!”_ Stanford pointed out. “You could’ve lost your arm!”

“But I didn’t.” Stanley grinned. “You so too can survive jumping into the ocean covered in chum.”

Dipper’s eyes went round. The look on his face was comical. “Wait, you were covered in it? I thought you said you threw the bucket in with you!”

Stanley shook his head. “Poindexter got mad at me and tried to splash me with some dead fish. So, I picked up the bucket, dumped it on my head, and jumped in. He was pretty mad.”

“I was and I had a right to be,” Stanford agreed. “You nearly gave Mom a heart attack and Dad would’ve bitten our head off worse than any shark if I hadn’t lied about why you were soaked.”

“You really are a bad liar,” Stanley agreed. “He gave it to you, since you were the favorite an’ all.”

Stanford scoffed. “ _Favorite._ We’re twins, Stanley. They don’t _choose_ favorites.” Nonetheless, he’d dropped his gaze to the plate of food.

Stanley lost his cocky smile in the wake of confusion and irritation. “What? _Really?_ ”

Dipper and Mabel looked at each other.

Stanford nodded. “Yes, really. Did you not hear me?”

“You were so their favorite,” Stanley grumbled.

“We were brothers. We did everything together. I don’t think they had the time to–”

“Says the favorite,” Stanley cut in. “It’s easy to deny it if you _are_ it.”

Stanford looked up. “We’re not kids, anymore. We’re twins, and we did everything together. They couldn’t tell who was who sometimes.”

Stanley huffed. “Yeah. Why am I surprised you would think that?”

Stanford glared at him. Yet, he couldn’t summon a retort. He couldn’t escalate that argument… because he didn’t have any legitimate way to do it.

_Stanford concentrated on the book in his lap. He could hear yelling in the background. “Stanley” “…did you do?” “screw-up!” laced the risen words. Stanford… was too numb to it to really react. Instead, he kept re-reading the same passage over dolphins again and again, struggling to retain anything on the page._

_“Hey, bro.” Stanley’s voice was a bit faker than usual._

_“Hey, Stanley. Look at this.” Stanford looked up to see Stanley holding his own arm. Stanford didn’t really notice. He’d seen worse._

_“Dolphins? Dude, what are you doing lookin’ at dolphins?”_

_“They protect people from sharks and sometimes help people to shore. If we ever get stranded, seeing a pod of dolphins is a good sign.”_

Stanford didn’t look up at his brother. He didn’t need to; he could feel Stanley’s anger. Stanford glanced up at his dolphin.

Fiddleford spoke up, “Now, isn’t this the sort of behavior you two are tryin’ to avoid? Ah know you two still need to work things out, but it’s breakfast.” _Not in front of the children._

 

_Stanley_

A few hours later, Stanley strolled up to the living room table where Fiddleford sat, diligently working on the time machine. Since Mabel wouldn’t let him bring it out of the house, Fiddleford stayed at Stanford’s house to work on it, often staying later than usual. Though “later than usual” was probably defined differently between the three men.

Fiddleford looked up at his approach. “Uh, heya, Stanley. Somethin’ Ah can help with?”

Stanley looked over the contraption in the man’s hand. It looked worse than when Stanley’d given to him. Its panel was gone and it was, for all intents and purposes, a mess of parts. “Yeah, I think, uh… kids are in their room, attic, thing. Stanford run off, again?”

“Ah reckon he did,” Fiddleford answered with a small shrug. “Used ta be, he’d focus on somethin’ for hours an’ hours. Then, when a new idea came ta him, he’d drop everythin’ to chase it. Wouldn’t listen a darn thing Ah’d say.” A small smile tugged at his lips. “Ah, he’s full of spirit.” His smile faded. “Too bad… well, Ah don’t know where he went, Stanley.”

“Yeah, me neither.” Stanley hesitated. “Uh, so, what do you know about my brother? Were you two partners or something?”

Fiddleford nodded. “Ah was his research assistant. An’ his dorm mate back in college.”

“So, you’ve seen that monster before, right?”

Fiddleford sighed. “Ah have.”

“And, you know it makes people see bad things, right?”

Fiddleford nodded.

“So, was there some sort of cure or somethin’ you used?” Stanley prompted. He sighed. “Yeah, I figured. Dumb thing to say.”

“No, no, Ah do.” Fiddleford sat up straight. “Stanford jus’… Ah… Stanford jus’ doesn’t like it. So, Ah’d appreciate it if ya didn’t go tellin’ him.”

Stanley, more apprehensive now, looked him up and down. “What is it? We’re not, like, sacrificing goats, are we?”

Fiddleford shook his head. “No, no. It’s…” he lowered his voice a bit. “It’s a memory gun. It helps people by removin’ their bad memories.”

“Really?” Stanley whispered back. “But isn’t that impossible?”

Fiddleford shook his head, a smile coming to him. “Nope! Ah made it maself.” His smile wavered a bit. “Now, Ah don’t think it’s appropriate to talk about it here. Why don’t ya meet up with me later at the museum?”

Stanley started to disagree since any meeting place of cultists would definitely turn out to be creepy and Dipper and Mabel regarded that place with a ton of caution, their chat was interrupted. Stanford strode into the room just then, his hands behind his back. “Stanley! I, uh, need to talk to you.”

“Yeah?”

“The kids don’t have a change of clothes,” Stanford stated. “So, while we’re busy, I think it would be a good idea for you and Mabel to go clothes shopping.”

Stanley raised an eyebrow. “Oh, really? Me? Is there a specific reason for that?”

An uncomfortable look crossed over Stanford. Stanley knew that look. It took quite a bit of willpower to put down a smile. “Well, Mabel wants to go out to the mall and get new clothes. I thought that since you will be staying here for a while, you should get to know the layout of the town a bit more.” Stanford pulled something out of his pocket and held it out. Stanley took it. “There’s a list, too.”

Stanley looked over the things given to him. Indeed, a shopping list was written in small letters over a scrap of paper. A good wad of cash was stuck inside the folded thing.

Stanford went on in a brisk voice, his eyes not meeting Stanley’s, “There’s also some extra money. It wouldn’t be right of me to ask you buy things for me with your own money after all. Also, you were right about not letting the kids out the find that stream. If they hadn’t done that, they wouldn’t have stumbled across the gremloblin. So, you should repair your car while you’re out. The, uh, side-view mirror is on the hood of your car already.” With that, Stanford walked out of the room, hands behind his back, fingers tightly intertwined.

Stanley watched him go. For a moment, he was speechless. _What?_

Mabel bounded into the room wearing her brilliant smile. “Stan! Ford said that we can go clothes shopping! Can we?”

Stanley smiled and put the money in his pocket. “Yeah, Mabel.” He strolled out the door. “Don’t go crazy on me now.”

“I am certifiably _not_ crazy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **JOURNAL 3**  
>  **Memory Gun**  
>  My assistant took my advice in the worst possible way. Today, he ran up to me beaming and saying that he'd spent all night working on a solution to his anxiety. He produced this unsettling device. Apparently, it can target and destroy bad memories--including his frightening encounter with the Gremloblin." ... "I didn't hesitate to let F know that, despite his best intentions, this device was far too dangerous to keep. The temptation for misuse was catastrophic. ... He was crestfallen by my advice, but after some discussion he came to see the wisdom in it."
> 
>  **SHOW**  
>  Day 1: "My name is Fiddleford Hadron McGucket and I wish to unsee what I have seen. For the past year, I’ve been working as an assistant to a visiting researcher. He had been cataloging his findings of Gravity Falls in a series of journals. I helped him build a machine which he believed had the potential to benefit all of mankind. But something went wrong. I decided to quit the project but I lie awake at night, haunted by the things I’ve done. I believe I’ve invented a machine that can permanently erase these memories from my mind. Test Subject One: Fiddleford."  
> Day 5: "It worked! I can't recall a thing!"  
> Day 22: "I call it: the Society of the Blind Eye. We will help those who want to forget by erasing their bad memories!"  
> ~Fiddleford, Memory Tapes, Season 2, Episode 7: Society of the Blind Eye
> 
> Yay! Happy! We're all getting along fine. The dinner table is where family bonding happens! I actually had this story scene written out for a while in the "Etc." section. I was _finally_ able to incorporate it into the story! There are a few "Etc." pieces I probably won't be adding. If I don't add them, I'll post them as an "extras" kinda thing somewhere. That is, unless I find a way to incorporate them all into the story! Hey!
> 
> -Also, Fiddleford's bit was inspired by this gorgeous short story: ["Jingle Bell Rock"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9104257) Legit love this story so much. Amydiddle is such a good writer. <3  
> -The "dumping the whole bowl of candy into his bag" bit was a reference to "Our Uncle Who Lives in the Woods" Season One, Chapter Nine: [Time Traveler's Goat.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12108444/chapters/28012764). You know, because I can do that. It's my story.


	11. It'll Buff Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mabel and Stanley have gone out shopping, leaving Dipper and Stanford with little else to do but worry.

_Dipper_

Dipper finished the book. Afternoon sunlight filtered in through the living room window. Dipper glanced back at the bandages Stanford had changed a few hours ago. They were nice and white. Dipper looked down at his watch. “What time is it?”

_“The time is 13:26:04, July 17 th, 1982.”_

Stanford hadn’t visited since he’d changed Dipper’s bandages and that had been right around breakfast. Dipper flicked his ear and looked down at the finished book. Where was Mabel, anyway? She and Grunkle Stan should have been here. They’d left over two hours ago, they would have been here by now. They had just gone to the store!

Dipper tensed. Something happened to them. He knew it. Something happened- something bad. The boy tried to smother his paranoia, but it wasn’t working. He’d been wrong about Mabel being dead or kidnapped, sure. But they should be back by now. Where were they? What was happening? Oh, no. _“Please be okay, Mabel. Please be okay.”_

 

_Mabel_

Mabel was cold. She was cold and her shoulder hurt. The awful smell of burning plastic attacked her nose. Something warm and sticky touched her arm.

Mabel opened her eyes. She bit back a gasp. Pure blackness enveloped her vision. Cloth surrounded her and metal was above her. Nothing pressed down on her, nothing cut her. The car wasn’t even on its side. Mabel was just under it, hidden from view.

Voices, sharp and cold and loud were outside. A groan marked Stanley being close by. Mabel whimpered and peeled back the top of the cloth. Stanley stared her straight in the eyes. His voice was so quiet Mabel strained to hear him. “Stay. Here. Be quiet. Once they leave, I need you to go to town and call Stanford. I’ll be okay, Pumpkin.”

“S-Stan,” Mabel sniffled.

Stanley twitched his head as if shaking it. “Hush, sweet-heart. Call my brother.” His gaze flicked to the outside. He pulled the trench coat back over her. “Hush, Pumpkin.”

Mabel shut her eyes and retreated into herself. Her bag was pressed up against her belly. The voices outside got louder. She put her hands over her ears. Although she couldn’t understand the words, she could _feel_ the hate. Cold, sharp hate radiated from Stanley. Bitter victory laced their attackers’ voices.

Someone else knelt beside the car and looked under it. Although his hand started to reach for her, it hesitated. “There you are.” He grabbed Stanley’s duffle bag and pulled it out from under the car. Mabel bit her tongue to keep from making a noise. Even as she heard her future great uncle struggle against his new attackers but suddenly stop, she forced herself to keep quiet.

Eventually, the black car’s engine snarled to life. They were gone.

Mabel blinked open her eyes. She squirmed out from under the car and looked down the road where the black car was heading. The instinct to curl up in a ball inside of her sweater nearly overwhelmed her. She sucked in her breath, wormed out of the trench coat, and forced herself to run around the bend to town.

 

_Stanford_

Stanford paced the kitchen again. Where were they? They were just going out to get some clothes and fix that sideview mirror. Surely that didn’t take very long. Even if Mabel was the kind of girl to spend an ungodly amount of time in the dressing room, Stanley would get bored and bring her back. The mechanics weren’t that slow around here. Unless Stanley decided to take the long route home and play a game of “I Spy” or something, he should’ve been home by now! He should have at least called to stop them from worrying…

Stanford put down his paranoid thoughts. If Dipper saw him strung up and knew why, the boy would surely panic. After all, Stanford was prickly and he was a hardened adult. Dipper was just a kid. Mabel was a kid, too. Stanley was a lot of things, but he was not the type to let a kid get hurt. He shouldn’t worry over Mabel. Stanford trusted the girl with Stanley more than anyone else he knew.

_Briiiing!_

Stanford bristled and swore. Stop being so paranoid! A call was to be expected if Stanley was going to be late!

Stanford grabbed the phone. “Hello. This is Stanford Pines.”

_“F-Ford?”_ a little squeak came from the other side.

“Mabel?”

The girl burst into tears on the other side of the phone. _“W-we got i-i-in a car crash a-a-and S-S-Stan t-told me to c-c-call y-you! Th-they took him a-away!”_

Stanford’s blood went cold. “Who took him?”

_“Th-them!”_ Mabel managed to gasp. _“B-bad guys! Th-they took him a-a-and I don’t kn-know where his is!”_

“It’s okay. Uh, we’ll be right there. We’ll find him,” Stanford tried. Thoughts on where and how they’d find him immediately flipped through his mind like the index of a rather large and complicated physics book.

_“T-tell Dipper!”_ Mabel’s voice suddenly became clear- well, clearer. _“T-tell him to t-tell the t-t-teleport thingy my name! Please!”_

“Is that how- er, of course. Yes. Are you- where are you?”

_“A g-gas station. Please hurry!”_

“I’m hurrying. Don’t worry.”

_Click._

Stanford, stuffing a knife in his trench coat and grabbing his loaded crossbow and bolts, hurried into the living room. Dipper watched him with round eyes. “Where are they? Is Mabel okay?”

“Dipper.” Stanford put a hand on his shoulder. “Mabel told me that you can say her name to the teleporter and it will bring you to her.”

“It will? Oh my gosh!” Dipper smacked himself in the head. “That’s how she found Gr- Stan!” Dipper grabbed Stanford’s wrist and held up the teleportation device. “Take us to Mabel Pines!”

“Pines?”

_“Mabel Pines.”_

_Vrrrrrp!_

 

Stanford winced at the sudden heat. He gasped as a small fire puffed on his jacket and he patted it out. Dipper yelped as he fell onto the hard stone. Stanford helped him to his feet.

“DIPPER!”

Stanford jumped and looked back.

A little girl Dipper’s age tackled the boy. Her oil-splotched arms wrapped around him in a constricting hug.

Dipper hugged her back. “Mabel! What’s wrong? Where’s Stan?”

“Th-they took him!” Mabel squeaked. She grabbed his wrist. Stanford hurried to hold onto Dipper. “Find Stanley Pines!”

_“Stanley Pines.”_

_Vrrrrp._

 

_Stanley_

Stanley could hear the commotion of people walking around him. His wrists were constricted behind the back of the hard chair he was in. A bag was over his head. The awful stench of oil covered most other smells. When he twitched his arm, the large bruises ached and some cuts where glass had scraped by him stung. Stanley was trapped and injured, no doubt about it.

Stanley winced as the bag was torn off his head. Standing before him, narrowed eyes bright and sneer only growing larger, was a man he knew all too well. In fact, a man whom made Stanley consider faking his own death over and skedaddling back to the other side of the country. It was a face he’d seen in his worst nightmares. “Hal. How nice to see you here. Or, are you going by Andrew, now?”

Stanley didn’t respond. He looked about the place. A few other people Stanley recognized and some he didn’t lined the walls like decorative paintings. Hopefully he wouldn’t hear Mabel’s crying here of all places…

Stanley jolted as a set of fingers snapped under his nose. A slight annoyance crossed over Rico’s tanned features. Once he knew he had the attention of his former cell-mate, he took a few steps back and hid his hands behind his back. “Do you know why you’re here?”

_No._ Stanley’s first thought was sarcasm. Wow. How had Stanley survived so long? “Rico, if it’s about the money, I have most of it! It’s in my bag!”

Rico shook his head. “Time up, Forester. It’s been up for a long time. N–”

_Baaaaaa!_

Yells and screams of shock burst through the room. Rico stumbled back and hit a person behind him. Three new people were in the room now. Stanley couldn’t believe his own eyes.

Standing closest to him Dipper. His legs splayed and he held onto the ground with hard hooves and held up his hands in a sloppy boxing stance. Mabel stood by the boy’s side, her puffy eyes narrowed. On Dipper’s other side was Stanley’s twin, a crossbow in his hands.

“Nobody move! Time police!” Mabel yelled, a grappling hook in her hand.

Rico tried to take out a gun as the people around him were too stupefied by the sudden appearance of a monster, a little girl, and a man who was identical to Stanley to do anything. He yelled and grasped his leg, where a crossbow bolt dug into his left knee. His gun skittered away, just out of reach.

Stanford yelled in a hard, commanding voice, “This is a rescue! On your knees and hands on your heads or we’ll dust this entire building!”

People around the room, including Rico, got down onto their knees, hands on their heads.

Mabel gasped as she spotted Stanley and ran to his side. She fumbled with the bonds holding him back in his seat. Stanford threw a knife. Mabel caught it–barely–and tore through the bonds that held him. “Come on, Officer McSnazzle!” Mabel exclaimed and took Stanley by the wrist. “We need to talk with the president in year 2572!”

Dipper took a hold of Mabel and Stanley. Stanford caught Dipper by the back of his vest. Dipper held up his arm. After a bit of a stutter, he ordered, _“Jacksonville, Mississipi!”_

_Vrrrp!_

The four were gone.

After a few seconds, the person nearest to Rico wheezed, “What the fuck was that?”

Rico shook his head. “…I think we got the wrong guy.”

The sunlight shifted in the spot the four had occupied as a bird flew overhead. “The Time Police are after us!” one yelled and ran away. The others scattered like rats from a flaming cage- all but Rico, who couldn’t run.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo how's everyone doing? We ready to mess some stuff up? Yeah we are! ...just be patient.
> 
> By the way, for those of you that were curious: I had three ways of Stanley and Stanford meeting for the first time. They could a: Meet at the door (which they did). b: Stanley and Mabel get caught by the government and Ford and Dipper pick them up (posted that as a [sta.ch on dA.](https://sta.sh/02eswvbic87h)) or c: car wreck and rescue! Which is this chapter! Hehehe Stanley's segment here was my favorite to write. The chapter itself was a bit lighter before. Mabel wasn't as mentally scarred. She was just super duper happy to meet up with Dipper again and save Grunkle Stan. I darkened it a bit here because there was no balm. *clears throat* Anyway, I just really loved writing Stanley's part here! *bird flies overhead* "The Time Police are after us! D:"
> 
> AAAAAAALSO: Guess what? There's a solid chapter count, now!


	12. Dumb Things Forever!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to recover.

_Dipper_

_“Fffff_ _!_ Ow, ow, ow.” Dipper collapsed, teeth gritted and eyes screwed tight. It hurt to move his right back leg.

He felt a large hand on his shoulder. “Dipper! Are you alright? Did one of your stitches break?”

Dipper shook his head. “No. I don’t think so. Uh…” He looked back. The bandages on his side were still white. “I-I’m fine. It kind hurts to land on it.”

“Then stay laying down.” Stanford patted his shoulder.

Dipper nodded and looked up. “Yeah, okay.” It was then Dipper got a good look at his surroundings. They were back in the place he and Mabel teleported to straight after Dipper got attacked. “Mabel! S-Stan! Are you guys okay?”

Mabel, clinging to Stanley, nodded. “Y-yeah.”

Stanley patted her head. “It’s okay, Pumpkin. They’re not coming back.” He winced as he moved the wrong way, but managed to hide it quick enough to not stress Mabel and Dipper out even more. “We need to get home. We’ll get you a nice shower and we can relax over a cup of hot chocolate. What do you say?”

Mabel, eyes still shut and arms around his waist, mumbled, “With sprinkles and marshmallows?”

“Yep! Extra marshmallows and sprinkles,” Stanley promised. His smile fell a bit. “They’re bad guys, but they’re not going to bother us anymore, okay?”

Mabel whimpered. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

Dipper held up his wrist. Stanford took his and Stanley’s hand. Mabel opened one eye and took Dipper’s wrist. “Mystery Shack, Gravity Falls!”

“Mystery Shack?”

_Vrrrp!_

Dipper shook his head at the sudden change of scenery. He stretched and stood up. Stanley looked at Stanford. “Do you mind grabbing my car? Or the bags? Thanks.” With that, he led Mabel back inside.

Stanford watched them go. “Yeah, sure. Dipper?”

Dipper took Stanford’s hand. “Uh… Stanley’s car! The… uh… Stanleymobile?”

_“Stanleymobile.”_

_Vrrrp!_

There were a few bags in the backseat. Thankfully, the car itself hadn’t been too broken, save for the front. It couldn’t drive across the state, but it could limp back home. Dipper tried to put on a seatbelt, but since he fit across two seats, it was futile. So, he clung to the door and the back of Stanford’s seat as they drove. As soon as they got back, Stanford carried in most of the things. Dipper held a bag with a change of clothes for him and Mabel.

When they got inside, Stanley was sitting at the kitchen table, Mabel in his arms. He hummed and told a quiet story. She looked to have calmed down quite a bit, though she still shivered on occasion. She’d curled up in a little ball with her sweater over her head and her knees. She shook her head every time Stanley attempted to get her to speak. Dipper’s heart broke just seeing his sister like that. Even worse? He couldn’t help. What could he do? He’d never been in a car accident or been kidnapped or watch someone get kidnapped.

Eventually, Mabel took the new clothes and ran to the bathroom.

 

_Mabel_

Mabel took the first shower. The memory of those awful people taking Stan away still haunted her. She couldn’t imagine that happening. She just… couldn’t. She knew that Grunkle Stan got in a lot of trouble. She knew that Grunkle Stan had gotten involved with bad people. He said so himself when he told his story. But she just couldn’t imagine something like that happening. Grunkle Stan might have done bad things, but that’s because he was forced to do them. He didn’t have a home back then. He’s a great guy, though! He’s the greatest great uncle, even if he lies a lot. Those people were just bad guys and they were mean.

When Mabel met up with Stan again, he’d made a whole pitcher of hot chocolate with lots of sprinkles and mini marshmallows for them. Chocolate helped a little. That and cuddles. Cuddles always helped. He had been cleaned up, too, and Stanford bandaged him up. He’d gotten scraped and bruised, but it was nothing Stanford couldn’t handle.

When Dipper came back, they got to tell stories again. Stanley and Stanford told stories about their childhood and about how they were adventurers. They skirted around anything having to do with them when they were seventeen or older. Although the stories were awesome, the best part wasn’t listening to how Stanley and Stanford hunted down the Jersey Devil. That was an awesome story, though. The best part was how Stanley and Stanford told the stories together. They were _smiling._ They’d chip in and interrupt each other but they didn’t put any anger in it. That was the best part of story time.

 

_Stanford_

Stanford smiled and offered the beginning of stories and sometimes fact-checked Stanley. Mabel was bouncing and giggling and gasping and reacting to their stories with so much enthusiasm and emotion. Dipper happier as well, and Stanford had a sneaking suspicion it wasn’t just the stories. The boy would glance at his sister often, his happiness only growing as he watched his sister squirm out of the funk she’d been forced into. It was precious. Stanford had to admit the kids were precious. He’d never thought on kids before, of course. They were never his strong suit. Human interaction of any sort was never his strong suit. Still, he had this odd feeling about the twins… like he knew them… like he _recognized_ them.

 _Mabel Pines._ Her name–their names–were _Pines._ That couldn’t be coincidental. Perhaps he’d think it if it wasn’t for the fact that Mabel looked so familiar. The boy, Dipper… aside from his obvious deer qualities, he shared similarities. The Pines curly brown hair and deep brown eyes came to mind. He’d seen it as they walked to the museum and he saw it now. Those kids, whether in the close or distant future, were related to them somehow. It had to be along the male line since women take on the man’s last name. Stanford and Stanley were men, but Stanford highly doubted Stanley’s responsibility–what little he had of it–would extend to having, and keeping, children. Stanford was unmarried and that wouldn’t change in the near future.

…Shermie had a few kids.

Yes, Shermie had a few kids. Mabel and Dipper were not nearly old enough to be Shermie’s, especially since time travel hasn’t been invented yet. But those kids, they called him “Gr-something” quite often. Gr… Stanford bit his tongue. _Grandpa? Great uncle?_ No… was time travel really that close? Did Stanford find a way to invent _time travel?!_ Did future Stanford invent a time travel device and a teleporter and those kids took it? What about Fiddleford? They’d been very reluctant to- goodness, what if they’d taken the inventions from Fiddleford in the future? That’s why Mabel instantly asked for Fiddleford to repair it! That’s why Dipper was so afraid of finding Fiddleford and telling Stanford about the teleporter! It all made sense!

…and Stanley nearly killed them.

 _“No, no. You don’t understand what_ I’ve _been through! I’ve been to prison in_ three _different countries! I once had to chew my way out of the trunk of a_ car! _You think you have problems? I have a mullet, Stanford!”_ Stanley’s bark rang through his head. Stanley was a criminal and he interacted with criminals. He made some powerful enemies. One of them nearly killed him and Mabel! They had mentally scarred Mabel! If Stanford hadn’t scared the living hell out of that Rico goon with teleportation technology and a crossbow, they’d attack again. Stanley was going to lead more “bad guys” to them. The longer Stanley stayed, the more a target Stanford’s cabin became.

Stanford looked over the kids. Mabel sat on Stanley’s lap. Dipper bleated and shook his head as Stanley pushed down his pine tree cap. Stanford had a sneaking suspicion those kids wouldn’t let go of Stanley. Back to Plan A it was. No avoiding it. As soon as those kids left, Stanford would have to tell Stanley to hike it alone. Fix his car first, give him some food and clothes, and then maybe point him to some places where he can find a job on the east coast. Cruel, but necessary. He couldn’t have dangerous criminals breaking down his door while he dealt with Bill. _Bill._ Ugh, the thought of that blasted demon still sent chills down his spine. Curse that triangular demon.

Stanford had only gotten halfway through his hot chocolate before Mabel and Dipper were done with theirs. He’d also lost a few marshmallows along the way. He didn’t lose them by eating them, oh no. When Stanley thought he wasn’t looking, he’d steal marshmallows he didn’t need. Stanford was tempted to call him out on it, but decided against it. He didn’t call kid Stanley on it, he wouldn’t call adult Stanley on it.

The sudden thought of not griping at Stanley’s antics caught up with him. He watched as his brother enthusiastically described how they caught a shark as teens. A bit of hot cocoa crusted on the rim of his mug and some dribbled onto the table where his overfilled mug lost a bit of its contents after being moved too suddenly. Marshmallows, from the most recent cool ones to the oldest ones that were just foam, floated on the top. Stanley had always taken more than he could handle. He always, without fail, overfilled his mug with hot cocoa. He always, without fail, drank it too early and burned his tongue. He always put too much sprinkles or marshmallows on top. Stanley took too much to handle, but never was upset about it. He never did learn from it. Stanford would have thought after all these years, Stanley would learn that a mug could only hold so much. Stanford looked down at his own. Then again, Stanford would have learned that his caution always meant he took less then he potentially could have. The tiny pile of marshmallows didn’t even touch the rim of his mug. Funny how the two’s imbalance alone would balance out together.

Stanford mentally shook himself and took another sip of his drink. Stanley caught the action and turned the story around. “So, then I reeled in that thing like a master. It flopped around on the deck like it was still trying to eat us! Sixer totally kicked it in the face!”

“Sharks have a weakness,” Stanford agreed, finally pitching into the conversation again.

Dipper and Mabel, caught up in the story, prompted, “You really kicked it in the face?”

Stanford nodded. “Yep. I also threw the thing overboard. It was much too dangerous to catch after all.”

“Yeah, it did try and bite my leg off,” Stanley agreed. “Too bad. We caught a bunch of other fish, though.”

Their story time extended for a while longer. Finally, their drinks were empty and the kids much too riled. Stanley took them outside. After pulling something out of his car, they ran around to the back of the house. Curious, Stanford put away their dishes–meaning they were put in the sink and half full of water–and walked onto the porch. He hadn’t been there for thirty seconds before he was _soaked._

Stanford gasped and spun around. Stanley held a water balloon in his hand. The kids were a few feet away with their own balloons and a whole bucket nearby. “It’s pretty hot out here! Why don’t you cool off for a bit?”

Stanford felt obliged to disagree. After all, they were full grown adults. Why not just let the children play? But after another hit him square in the face and Stanley yelled, “Afraid of a little water, Ford?” Stanford got rid of such thoughts. Like he was going to be cowed by a balloon! He picked up a few water balloons. The chase was on.

 

_Stanley_

_“This_ _was what summer was supposed to be about,”_ Stanley thought as he launched a pink balloon at his brother. The balloon missed and was replaced with a green one. Stanford had surprising aim and Stanley’s left hip was now soaked. Mabel hit Dipper with a balloon and chased after him, one hand in the air and yelling a war cry. Dipper ducked out of the way and scrambled to get another balloon. This one missed and hit Stanley square in the back. The tables turned. Mabel threw another one at Stanford. Now the battle turned into an all out free-for-all.

Stanley was hit by a green balloon thrown by Mabel, who had a surprisingly good amount of accuracy with water balloons. He launched a blue one at her. It missed and hit Stanford. Stanley watched as they ran about, plucking balloons from the buckets and chasing each other. This is what summer was supposed to be about. It wasn’t running from state to state. It wasn’t sitting in an old motel eating sad cereal and watching “Cash Wheel” on your birthday. It wasn’t about being holed up, alone in the middle of the woods. It was about family, friends, and fun… it should be. _It should be._

The reminder that this was going to end tried nipping at him. The reminder that he wasn’t going to stay in this old shack with his brother forever ate at him. But right now? Listening to his brother truly laugh for the first time in ages, he couldn’t hear the warnings. Watching his brother tumble to the ground, only to be pounced upon by two excited children, he couldn’t see his brother’s hate or distressed frown. This is what summer was about–dumb things forever. Hell if he was thinking anything different.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Garahel always used to say that heroism was just another word for horror, and maybe a worse one. A hero always feels that he has to do what's right. Sometimes that leads to tormenting himself with doubt long after the deed is done. Or herself...” ~Amadis Vael, Dragon Age (Gray Wardens, 4th Blight)  
> "There are men who embrace destiny; these are the ones that change the world forever." ~Flemeth, Dragon Age II  
> "Ah. This is what Saturdays are for. Doing dumb things forever." ~Stanley, Season Two, Chapter Eleven: "Not What He Seems"
> 
> There are some sincerely good Dragon Age quotes out there. *cough* Anyway, looky here! We got some clashing morals over here. Aughtta be fun.  
> Also, I was going to post this yesterday, but I couldn't wait. Haha I have something fun planned for the chapter less than a week away!


	13. Open Up! This is the Police! Time Police.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a nice summer's day and all of the water balloons have been used up.

_Dipper_

Dipper, ruffled but mostly dry now, lay down in the living room again. He’d given up his soaked clothes in favor of new ones. Everyone that had been outside in the water fight had dried off and changed.

Mabel plopped down beside Dipper and wrinkled her nose. “You smell like a wet dog!”

“I’m part deer!” Dipper pointed out. “I smell like wet deer. I-” He hesitated. His tail and ears flicked up and his head spun around so fast his neck hurt.

“What?” Mabel’s smile left her.

Stanley, who’d been interested in teasing his brother, looked down at the kids. “Uh… kids?”

Dipper strained to listen. He could hear them. He couldn’t understand their words, but… Dipper’s eyes went round as moons. He turned to Mabel. “It’s the Time Police!” _Oh no, oh no, oh no! He was right!_

Mabel squeaked in terror. “Oh no!”

Dipper scrambled to his hooves. Mabel helped him up.

Stanford jumped up. “Whoa! What’s happening!”

Dipper pointed to the mostly finished time machine Fiddleford had. “H-hide that! The Time Police are here. If they see that- uh, just- um, hide it!” Dipper dove under the table and pulled his legs up to himself. Mabel hid behind him. Dipper took off his watch and hid it in his pocket. From this vantage point, they could see into the kitchen doorway and into the kitchen as most of the door was broken. Thankfully, they couldn’t see the front room from any angle.

A knock came at the door. Fiddleford looked down at the thing he was trying to fix. Stanley smacked a box over it, took the nearest clock, broke it, and set it on top of the box. Then he hurried after Stanford as he left the living room.

“Hello? Officers?”

“Yes. We are looking for two kids. Twelve-year-old fraternal twins, brown wavy hair, go by ‘Mabel’ and ‘Dipper’.”

“Ha! No kids. House full of bachelors!”

“We’re not asking if they’re _yours.”_

“I’m sorry, Officers, but I don’t recall seeing any children.”

“Yeah. We’ll tell you if we see two fugitive kids.”

“…we have other places we need to search.”

The door shut.

Dipper put the watch back on. The twins looked up at Stanley and Stanford as they walked into the living room. Stanford stopped near the door. “Time Police?”

Stanley smirked. “What, are you two fugitives or somethin’? Time criminals?”

“No!” Mabel squawked. She squirmed past Dipper and then helped him out from the table.

Dipper sat up straight. “The equipment isn’t ours, yeah, and we’re not time travelers.”

“But we’re not criminals!” Mabel added.

Stanley clicked his tongue. “I dunno.”

“Stealing is a crime,” Stanford pointed out. “If you stole something and the police are after you, then that would make you criminals.”

“So, if the police aren’t after you, you’re not a criminal?” Stanley grinned.

“Don’t.” Stanford shot a pointed glare at him.

“We didn’t steal it!” Dipper defended. “We just… borrowed it. Stealing implies we took it and kept it. We just borrowed it for one time and then we’d have given it back.”

“Borrowed without permission, right?” Stanley prompted. “I dunno. What do you think? They were going to give it back.”

“They took invaluable _time travel equipment_ from _time police._ Of course that’s not alright or legal!” Stanford shot back. “Don’t encourage them!” He turned back to the kids. “Why do you actually have this time tape? How do you know so much about us?”

Dipper flattened his ears and glanced at Mabel. “Well… I already told you. I took this time tape so that I could go back in time and prevent myself from finding that magic water. We aren’t time travelers, _yeah._ We don’t know everything. But, um… we do… we do know you. In the future.” Dipper shut his eyes. “I don’t know if I’m supposed to say that, though! What if- I mean, if you two knew that we knew you thirty years in the future, we could change the course of history!” He threw his hands in the air. “W-we could change Gravity Falls or the whole world or something!”

“But, Dipper.” Mabel patted his arm. “It’ll be _fine._ We’re still here, right? I mean, we’ve already changed everyone’s future!”

Dipper paled considerably. “You’re right.” He put a hand on his head. “Oh my gosh. You guys aren’t- ugh!” He dropped his hands. “Okay, so, we already told you we’re staying in Oregon for the summer and that our parents are in California. All true. Trust me. The reason we found you is because we know you. When I got hurt, Mabel tried going to you, Stan.” Dipper gestured to Stanley. “I wanted to go back home so that you could help me, Ford.” He gestured to Stanford. “That time tape can only send you forward and backward in time. This watch sends you to any place you want to go- or any _person._ We’re not, like, time renegades or anything. I just borrowed this equipment from a time traveler that jumped into the Bottomless Pit in our time.”

Stanford held his hands behind his back. His expression was unreadable. “And how do you know us? Do you know this time traveler?”

Dipper shook his head. “No. I, uh… well, he was just there. I don’t know why. But after he jumped in, we took some of his stuff.” He flattened his ears. “We know you because…” He shut his eyes.

Mabel groaned and burst out, “You’re our great uncles!”

Stanford didn’t look at all surprised. In fact, his expression hadn’t changed. Stanley prompted, “Wait, so, I’m that great uncle you were talking about?”

Mabel nodded. “Yeah.”

Dipper turned to her. “What?”

“I didn’t tell him,” Mabel reassured him.

Stanford piped up, “How do you know Fiddleford?”

The twins looked at each other. _They couldn’t just_ tell _them about “Old Man” McGucket! Especially since Fiddleford was sitting right there… looking at them…_

Mabel said, “He lives here in the future and builds robots and stuff. And you guys were friends. So, we know him, too, kinda.”

 

_Mabel_

 “He lives here in the future and builds robots and stuff. And you guys were friends. So, we know him, too, kinda.”

Mabel looked between her two great uncles. She couldn’t understand that look Stanford had. Stanley was surprised and confused. Fiddleford hadn’t lifted the box so the broken time machine was still under the box. The lie felt awful. Lying was bad. But she couldn’t say that Mr. McGucket was crazy in the future. Besides, he only went crazy because he was using the memory gun too much. If they stopped him from using the memory gun, he wouldn’t go crazy! Also, he _did_ build robots in the future, so it wasn’t a _complete_ lie.

Stanley asked, “Why didn’t you tell us? Since you’re time travelers and all that?”

Mabel hunched her shoulders. Dipper explained, “We thought we might destroy the timelines or something! I mean, last time we messed with the timelines too much…”

“Blendin challenged us to Globnar and we had to go twenty shmeventy years into the future and fight a timeclops!” Mabel exclaimed.

Dipper nodded. “But since the Time Police are after us… I mean, I don’t know if it matters anymore.” His ears drooped.

Mabel pouted. “We hid from them, Dipper! I’m sure that we can get the time machine working and we can go back to our time and give them the time tape back!”

“We created so many anomalies, though!” Dipper pointed out, a sincere panic coming to him. He tugged down on his ears like he would his hat.

Mabel held onto his shirt sleeve. “Dipper, calm down! It’s okay, really.”

Stanley sighed. “Alright, alright. Enough’s enough. Nothin’s gunna jump out and grab you.” He strolled over to the kids. “Alright?”

Dipper looked up at him, still holding onto his ears. “What about the time anomalies and stuff? What if we stop existing?”

“That won’t happen,” Stanley scoffed. “These two nerds and I will think of something. You can keep existing and then go back to your time.”

“Now, Stanley.” Stanford started forward. “This is serious! We can’t just fix this–”

“Yes, we can,” Stanley countered. “We’ll think up somethin’. You’re good at that, right? Science and anomalies and all that?”

Stanford didn’t speak further. Mabel could tell he wasn’t done speaking, but Stanley was. So, Stanley turned to the kids and took Dipper’s hand. “Enough of that.”

Dipper gently let go of his ears. “Okay.”

“Come on. You need to dry off.” Stanley helped Dipper up. The boy, still tense and looking about ready to flee, followed Stanley out of the living room. Mabel stayed by Dipper, making sure that he knew she was there. He looked ready to go into one of his “fight or flight” episodes.

 

_Stanford_

Stanford watched them go. This was _not_ good. He turned back to Fiddleford. He’d gone back to fixing the time machine. “Stanford, Ah know what yer thinkin’.”

“This is dangerous!” Stanford agreed. “Time Police just came to our door!”

Fiddleford nodded. “Once Ah’m done with this, they’ll be able to move forward in time.” He looked up at Stanford. “But we both know what’s goin’ ta happen.”

Stanford sighed. “Exactly. Those Time Police–they should be experts in time travel, right? That or they have scientists or higher-ups back at their time. They’ll be able to fix this whole thing to let them live. But we don’t know what the timeline was before these kids! All we have are guesses and approximations based on what we were doing at the time.”

Fiddleford tapped his fingers against the wood. “It didn’t sound pretty. The way you and Stanley talk back an’ forth, our future mustn’t be as pretty as that girl wants us to believe. The boy knows what really happened.” Fiddleford sighed. “Ah’m afraid Ah don’t want ta know what exactly that is. If they go back to those time police and they do make things right?”

Stanford thought for a moment. “Are you saying…?”

Fiddleford nodded. “Afraid so, Stanford. Unless we somehow turn this into an alternate reality, it’s their future or ours.” The man shut his eyes. “They’re just kids.”

“Kids that messed with the timelines,” Stanford pointed out. “Children who have already gotten their hands on time travel and teleportation technology.”

“Kids who were tryin’ to right a mistake,” Fiddleford agreed, his voice a bit more forceful this time. “They don’t know what they’re doin’, Stanford.”

“It’s the responsibility of grown adults who _do_ know what they’re doing to fix it,” Stanford agreed, though his voice had lost a bit of its flare. “We should at least find out what this is all about, either from them or the police.”

“Stanford, if you go to the police, they’ll find out those kids are hidin’ here. They were terrified of the police. We don’t know what the future’s like, Stanford. They could be imprisoned for life for bein’ a danger to the timelines.”

“They _are_ a danger to the timelines,” Stanford agreed.

“They’re twelve!”

“They stole and broke a time machine!”

“They’re tryin’ to set things right and are goin’ about it in the wrong way,” Fiddleford stated. “You and I both know how that goes.”

Stanford didn’t speak at first.

_“What is it? Is it working? What did you see?!”_

_“Ahh! VOTMZRIG IVSKRX OORY.”_

_“Fiddleford?”_

_“When Gravity Falls and earth becomes sky, fear the beast with just one eye.”_

_“Fiddleford, get a hold of yourself, you’re not making any sense.”_

_“This machine is dangerous. You’ll bring about the end of the world with this. Destroy it before it destroys us all!”_

_“I can’t destroy this; it’s my life’s work!”_

_“I fear we’ve unleashed a grave danger on the world. One I’d just as soon forget. I quit!”_

Yeah, Stanford knew mistakes. He knew mistakes well. “But I can undo my mistakes.”

“Have you?”

…

“I thought so.” Fiddleford sighed and went back to his work. “Remember: they’re children trying to set things right.”

Stanford nodded and walked off. They were just children… trying to fix a mistake and going about it in the wrong way. Stanford stopped in front of the hidden door to his lab. The bookcase stood innocently before him. They were just children trying to fix a mistake.

 

*          *          *          *          *

 

A cornfield shuttered and waved around him. Stanford looked about, confused. A broken ship, ancient and weathered, stuck out of the ground like a shipwrecked sailboat after a tsunami. A swing set creaked nearby. The portal, half-broken and sparkling in haunting blue light, stabbed the ground and scraped the muted, cloudy sky far behind him. “Where am I…?” he mumbled. He didn’t remember going out… wait… was this his mindscape? Stanford tensed. Okay, he was dreaming. He was definitely–

He jumped as the wind picked up. The wheat flattened into the dusty earth beneath him. Most of the field shuttered and waved like an endless brown sea while a giant swath of wheat around him was flattened and stamped in the shape of a familiar triangular demon. Laughter, high-pitched and shrill and twisted like a hyena, carried through the wind.

Stanford narrowed his eyes in a glare and looked about. “I know that laugh! Show yourself, Cipher!”

A blue light flashed behind him. Stanford spun around. The blue beam of light contracted and morphed until- _pop!_ A golden triangle with a black top hat, legs, arms, bowtie, and one giant eye appeared before him. “ **WELL, WELL, WELL, WELL, WELL, WELL, WELL, WELL, WELL, WELL, WELL!** ” Bill chanted as he duplicated himself and surrounded Stanford. “Welcome back, buddy!”

Stanford growled, “What do you want from me?”

Bill giggled. “ **AW, QUIT PLAYING DUMB, IQ. YOU KNOW WHY I’M HERE.** ” He raised his arms. All of his duplicates turned into blue light and merged with him again. Bill set a hand on his side and held up the other. A spark of blue flame turned into the repaired time tape and the teleportation watch. Bill laughed and twirled his fingers, causing the working machinery to float in circles around his hand.

Stanford glowered at him. “What would you want with time travel technology?”

Bill chuckled. “ **THE REAL QUESTION IS: WHAT WOULD _YOU_ WANT WITH TIME TRAVEL TECHNOLOGY?** ” Stanford put down the confusion he felt. He wasn’t following along with Bill’s tricks. He was up to something. “ **BOY, THOSE KIDS CERTAINLY KNOW HOW TO DESTROY A TIMELINE!** ” Bill cackled. “ **YOU’RE RIGHT AGAIN, SIXER. THE MOMENT THAT TECHNOLOGY IS FIXED, YOU KNOW WHAT WILL HAPPEN?** ”

“Of course I know what’ll happen,” Stanford scoffed. “Those children will try to go back to their future, but will end up erasing themselves from existence.”

“ **THAT’S NOT ALL.** ” Bill snapped his fingers. The teleportation watch turned into Dipper. The time tape turned into Mabel. Stanford glared at him. He wasn’t being fooled again. “ **YOU DON’T REALLY THINK THAT BOY IS AS DUMB AS HE LOOKS DO YOU? THE INSTANT HE FINDS OUT YOU KNOW HE AND HIS SISTER WILL BE ERASED FROM EXISTENCE, HE’LL DO EVERYTHING IN HIS POWER TO _STOP IT._** ” Bill opened his hand. Dipper grabbed Mabel and held up his watch. Mabel held onto the time tape. She struggled a bit, but she looked too upset to counter whatever Dipper was doing. “ **HE’LL RUN AWAY AGAIN. AFTER ALL, THAT’S WHY KIDS DO BEST.** ” Dipper’s mouth moved, though no sound came out. He took away the time tape. “ **ONCE HE DOES…** ” Bill snapped is hand shut in a fist. The kids turned into wisps of blue fire. “ **POP!** ” Stanford’s eyes grew round. Knowing what was going to happen was one thing, but seeing it…

Stanford shook his head. “Get out of my head, Cipher! You have no power here!”

Bill burst into laughter. “ **THAT MAY BE TRUE, NOW BUT… I’M NOT THE ONE PLOTTING TO TAKE OUT YOUR LOVED ONES, AM I?** ” Bill floated around him. Stanford’s eyes never left Bill’s big, singular eye.

Bill’s eyes started changing color and pattern to show different scenes. Dipper with the watch and time tape, Mabel on his back, his eyes wide in fear. He was healthy, but the blue and red-ringed eyes behind him would soon change that. The scene switched to Stanley scaring off Mabel’s would-be kidnapper. Then it was Dipper, laying on the ground and bleeding out. Then the scene switched to events that Stanford didn’t recognize. Stanley activating the portal. Dipper activating the emergency shut-down sequence, but Mabel blatantly ignoring it. A man loosely resembling an older version of Fiddleford standing on a trash hill, wild eyes unfocused and gap-toothed grin wide in laughter. Stanley slammed down onto a government vehicle, clothes sopping wet and spread over the hot metal with his hands behind his back. Both kids stood back, gaping at him in wide-eyed horror. A government vehicle carting Dipper and Mabel away. Dipper holding up a memory gun not to himself, but to someone nearby… someone with six fingers and shiny glasses in the weird light of his secret study.

“ **ONCE THAT BOY FINDS OUT YOU’VE BEEN WITHOLDING THIS INFORMATION FROM HIM, DO YOU HONESTLY THINK HE’LL STAND DOWN AND TAKE IT? HE’S A CHILD WHO THINKS HE KNOWS MORE THAN YOU.** ” Bill blinked his eye. It turned white with a slit pupil. He held up his hand and snapped his fingers. A puff of blue flame appeared above his hand. It turned into Stanley. “ **AND GUESS WHO’S GOING TO DEFEND HIM TO THE DEATH? AND GUESS WHO WILL SUFFER THE MOST FROM IT.** ” Flames puffed over Stanley’s feet. They grew rapidly, licking up his pants and chest and ignoring his silent screams until finally he’d been consumed by the flames. Bill shut his hand. The image vanished.

Stanford couldn’t help but stare. Dipper was… he wouldn’t. He was just a kid. He didn’t have it in him to hurt people. No. In fact, he’d been trying to help.

_“What about the time anomalies and stuff? What if we stop existing?”_

Bill reminded him, his voice calming, “ **WE ALL DO WHAT WE NEED TO DO TO SURVIVE.** ” His eye turned into a broken science fair experiment. “ **WE ARE ALL SELFISH, STANFORD PINES. IT’S JUST A MATTER OF WHO ACTS FIRST.** ”

 

_Stanley_

Stars swathed over the deep indigo of the night. Very few clouds interrupted the stars. Stanley, hands in his pockets, old hood over his head, walked with his hands in his pockets into town. There weren’t very many people out right now. He saw a few people, but they were just getting into their cars after closing up shop. Stanley’s feet left the sidewalk and hit marble steps. He knew where he was going. How was he going to get there?

The doors to the museum were shut and locked. Stanley walked right through, shutting the unlocked door quietly behind him. He’d only been wandering around the museum, staying out of sight of any night guards and janitors, when the sound of footsteps, muffled by soft shoes, brushed the ground behind him. Stanley spun around, hand clutching a knife in his pocket. The maroon robed figure stopped. A red eye was crossed out on the hood. Fiddleford gently pulled the hood of his robes back. “Calm down, Stanley. It’s just me.”

“Oh.” Stanley relaxed. He couldn’t help but think that those kids were right. Just a few minutes before, he’d laugh at anyone who told him that mechanic could be creepy, but here he was.

Fiddleford went on, “You can go back home if ya want ta, but no one’s here to hurt you. The Society helps anyone who needs us.”

 _Yep. “Us”. Still very creepy._ “Uh, sure, sure. Yeah. So, you, uh, work here?”

Fiddleford shook his head. “No, not exactly.” He turned and walked down a hallway. Stanley followed. Every instinct he had was telling him to run. He’d been in tight places with people dressed in weird things before. Cults were never good. Maroon robes always reminded him of those Satanists he met a few years back. Try to sacrifice him once, shame on them. Walk right into a trap again, shame on Stanley. But he doubted this guy was some sort of Satanist or other type of religious nut. Didn’t they not believe in technology or something?

Stanley was broken out of his thoughts as they stopped in a room of eyes. The walls were covered in eyes of all types–diagrams, jarred, drawn–anything one could think of. All of them were pointed to a stone tat jutted out of the wall. Stanley shuttered. “Do you really have to set this stuff up like this?”

Fiddleford pressed a stone carved with the “Blind Eye” symbol on it. The stone sank into the wall. The other wall shuttered and parted to reveal a staircase. “Well, yes. It’s easier for us ta find this way and ta keep a secret from others.”

“Uh-huh.” Stanley looked about the tunnel as they descended. The door shut behind him, causing Stanley to wince. _Bad idea. Bad idea. Bad idea. Get out. Get out! No, stop. Calm down._ This Fiddleford guy could be trusted, Stanley should really stop freaking out.

Fiddleford glanced back at him and then to a pair of velvety red curtains. Fiddleford led him out into a rather large section with pillars and weird little pictures of birds and weapons and stuff. A chair lined with plushy red was in the center of the room next to a chest on a pedestal. Fiddleford opened the intricate, expensive-looking chest to bring out a gun with a blue lightbulb for a muzzle, a cylinder attached to the side, and a red sheet of glass in front like a shield.

_Uh… no. Nope, new levels of creepy._

Fiddleford held up the device. “This is the memory gun I told you about. It removes bad memories.” He turned it around to show the back of it to him as well as a dial on the side. “See this dial? You use it to type in the name of whatever memory ya want erased. The words appear here.” Fiddleford fidgeted with the dial. “GREMLOBLIN” appeared in stark green letters. “Then ya point it at your head and pull the trigger. There’s a big flash of blue light and you get disoriented for a few moments, but it passes.” Fiddleford grinned. “Neat, right?”

“Uh… yeah.” Stanley took the device from him. “It won’t kill me, will it?”

Fiddleford shook his head. “You’ll get disoriented for a short while, so you should sit down first.”

“Right.” _Don’t. Seriously._ Stanley sat down and looked over the machine again. _This is a bad idea._ Still… what harm could it bring about? It’s not like forgetting seeing his dead brother, parents, and those murdered kids beneath Rico would be bad. Stanley took the gun up in both hands. It was just a light bulb… nothing scary… one moment and then it would all be over…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **G U E S S W H O ~ !**


	14. Forgive and Forget?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The younger twins have barely escaped the time police and it looks like the older twins are fairing no better.

_Dipper_

Dipper lay comfortably in his bed, his human upper body leaning against the wall. Although the stars stretched across the sky above and the moon glowed over the landscape, Dipper was not asleep. His eyes were closed, but he concentrated on his senses. He could hear Stanford downstairs, struggling with a nightmare. Mabel lay next to him, snoring quietly. He didn’t smell any irregularities within their room nor hear any outside. What he didn’t hear included Stanley. Dipper opened one eye. He’d listened to Stanley as the man quietly got up and snuck out the window. Stanley was really quiet, Dipper would give him that. But Dipper was also part deer and deer woke up easily to such suspicious sounds nearby. Still, Dipper didn’t call him out on it. Instead, he waited.

Eventually, the window creaked open. Dipper shut his eye. Stanley climbed in through the window, shut it again, and crept into his bed. He was soon asleep. Dipper opened his eyes and turned his head to look at him. There was nothing off about him. He smelled like the outside. But there was also something else… he couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but there was something else there. In the back of his mind, Dipper recognized this smell. Still, he couldn’t pull up the memory associated with it, not when the tranquil smells of the forest and the sharp smell of the town covered it up. So, Dipper shrugged it off and shut his eyes. He’d confront him tomorrow.

 

Dipper woke up again that morning. This time Mabel was still asleep beside him, meaning either she’d snuck out to measure or bedazzle Stanford, or she was planning a surprise breakfast. When she woke up, she hopped out of bed and ran off. She… had probably been awake before Dipper. That was not a good sign.

When he went downstairs and got into the kitchen, his suspicions came true. Stanford was making some coffee. A few stickers were stuck on his face. His mug had also been generously decorated. Mabel, buzzing, sat at the table. Stanley hesitated as he walked inside. He burst into laughter. “I didn’t know you liked stickers!”

“Would you just- ugh.” Stanford stopped himself. “No.”

“Don’t be so grumpy!” Mabel chastised. “It’s proven that kittens make everything better.”

“How did you even get into my room?” Stanford prompted, his sticker-covered mug now full of coffee.

Mabel grinned. “The same way I measured Stan on the way here! Secretly.”

“What?” Stanley paused, one hand on the door of the fridge and the other holding up a plate of spare pancakes from yesterday.

“Seeeeeeecretly,” Mabel repeated, grinning.

Dipper sat down next to her, grinning as well. “Seeeeeeecretly!” The kids giggled and took turns mysteriously saying “secretly”. The Stan twins looked at each other. A moment passed before they just went to the table and passed out breakfast.

Dipper passively listened to the breakfast conversation, on occasion chipping in. However, he wasn’t as focused on Mabel as he was on _Stan_ –more specifically, why he’d gone out. Stanley didn’t seem to notice that Dipper was suspicious of him. But, then again, Stanley was always really good at hiding stuff.

Dipper reflected on what he’d heard Stan talking about for as long as they were there. He and Mabel were together so, most of what Dipper heard, Mabel did. But Dipper had senses Mabel didn’t.

_Dipper and Mabel stayed up in the attic. Mabel had found a few sticks and a ball outside. So, they busied themselves in building a mini golf course. As Mabel looked about for a paper and pencil to start marking things, Dipper sat down by the door._

_“…seen that monster before, right?” Stanley’s voice came from the living room._

_Fiddleford sighed. “Ah have.”_

_“And you know it makes people see bad things, right? … So, was there some sort of cure or somethin’ you used?” He didn’t even give Fiddleford a chance to speak before grumbling, “Yeah, I figured. Dumb thing to say.”_

_“No, no, Ah do. Stanford jus’… Ah… Stanford jus’ doesn’t like it. So, Ah’d appreciate it if ya didn’t go tellin’ him.”_

_“What is it? We’re not, like, sacrificing goats, are we?”_

_Fiddleford shook his head. “No, no. It’s…” he lowered his voice a bit. Dipper struggled to make out the words. “It’s a memory gun. It helps people by removin’ their bad memories.” Dipper’s blood went cold._

_“Really?” Stanley’s voice was equally as quiet. “But isn’t that impossible?”_

_“Nope! Ah made it maself. Now, Ah don’t think it’s appropriate to talk about it here. Why don’t ya meet up with me later at the museum?”_

_At that point in time, Stanford had come in and started talking. Dipper stared at the door. Oh no. When he tried to speak to Mabel, she was gone. Dipper stared at his hands. This… this was bad._

Dipper inwardly smacked himself. He needed to talk to Stanley.

After breakfast, Mabel hopped off into the yard. Stanford went into his study. Later on, Fiddleford came by to continue working on the time machine, which was almost done. Dipper watched as Stanley started to go outside. “Hey, Stan?”

The man stopped and turned around. “Yeah, Deerper?”

 _Darnit, Mabel._ Dipper pushed down the urge to curse his sister for the dumb name before continuing, “I need to talk to you.”

Stanley must’ve seen the look on his face as his smile wavered a bit. “Yeah, kid? Why so serious?”

“I heard you and Mr. McGucket talking,” Dipper stated. _Straight to the point._ “And I heard you sneak out last night.”

Stanley chuckled. “What? You sure you weren’t dreamin’? Fiddlesticks wasn’t here last night.”

“I haven’t told Mabel or Ford, yet, so you know. Ford would be _really_ upset and Mabel…” Dipper bit his cheek. “Well, Mabel wouldn’t be happy.” He looked back up at him. “But you went out last night and met Mr. McGucket to use his memory gun, didn’t you?”

Stanley laughed. “What? Memory gun? What are you talkin’ about, kid? That’s ridiculous.”

Dipper flicked an ear back. He heard Fiddleford drop something. “I’m talking about the memory gun Mr. McGucket built.”

Stanley sighed. “Okay. I know you’re from the future or whatever, but did he tell you about it?”

Dipper shook his head. “No.” He hesitated. “He… well, _he_ didn’t. That thing is dangerous! I-in the future…” _Mr. McGucket is listening in, you know…_ “-we find it. We find it and the Society of the Blind Eye,” Dipper confessed. “I don’t know what Mr. McGucket was thinking in this time, but in the future, the Society is a _bad_ place.”

“What?” Stanley scoffed. “You’re pulling my leg. Are you tellin’ me that beanstalk is a villain-in-the-making?”

Dipper shook his head. “Oh, no! No, no, no! Mr. McGucket is a really nice man, but the Society _wasn’t_.” Dipper thought on some of the people he’d seen there, more specifically: Blind Ivan. Just the thought of him made him shutter. “Bottom line is: that machine is bad. He’s only doing what he thinks is right, but it could be used for really bad things.”

“What could?”

Dipper looked back. Mabel stood in the doorway from the living room to the kitchen, a bag of flowers in her hands.

 

_Mabel_

Dipper’s ears flicked back. “Uh…”

“What could?” Mabel’s voice hardened a bit and she walked forward. She set the flowers on the counter.

Dipper sighed. “Mabel, I don’t know. I just…”

Mabel pouted. This was _not_ good. Dipper never kept secrets from her! When he tried, it was only over really bad things. She looked up at Stanley, who had a bit of a nervous grimace himself. “What machine’s bad, Dipper?” _What machine was bad? Stanley didn’t have any weird gizmos that Mabel knew of and she never saw Mr. McGucket with a weapon or bomb or something. But Fiddleford was great at making machines…_ Her eyes went round. “Oh my God, Dipper, did you find the memory gun?!”

Dipper winced. “Yeah.”

“Like, just now?”

Dipper shook his head. “Yesterday. Last night. Sorta.”

“And you didn’t tell me?” Mabel huffed, more hurt than mad. _Why didn’t Dipper trust her with that sort of thing? If she knew earlier, they could’ve made a plan and helped them!_

Stanley spoke up, “It’s alright, Mabel. Dipper’s just getting a bit overexcited and…”

“No, it’s not!” Mabel squawked.

Stanford left his study, then. “What’s all this? What’s happening?”

Dipper’s ears flicked forward. “Uh…”

Mabel put her hands on her hips. Stanley, Fiddleford, and Dipper had turned to her now. “Well, Stanley snuck out last night with Mr. McGucket and Dipper knew it and didn’t tell me.” Fiddleford let out a quiet sigh of relief.

“How’d you find out?” Stanford relaxed a bit.

“Pssh. I was awake, too.” Mabel waved her hand.

“Was everyone _but_ me awake last night?”

Mable nodded. “Pretty much.”

Stanford rolled his eyes. “Stanley sneaks out all the time, Mabel. I doubt he’s dumb enough to get himself into trouble.”

“I totally do,” Stanley agreed with a grin. “But I wasn’t going to be bringing back any big bad monsters. I was just taking a stroll out. Pretty, uh, heavy air in here sometimes.”

Dipper nodded. “Yeah, I, uh, he smelled like the forest, kinda, when he came back. So…”

Mabel huffed, “I know that! Grunkle Stan likes to sneak out. But ugh! This time it’s because he was going to meet Mr. McGucket so he could use the memory gun!”

Fiddleford flinched. Stanford turned on Fiddleford in an instant. “ _What?!_ I thought I told you to destroy that thing!”

Fiddleford stood up, abandoning the time machine on the table.

 

_Stanford_

Stanford watched as Fiddleford stood up and raised his hands. “Okay, Stanford. Ah know what Ah said, but…”

“You said you broke that thing!” Stanford countered. Fiddleford? Lying? What? No. No, he could believe it. Fiddleford was always a coward. Of course he’d find a way to just _erase_ his fears rather than face them.

Fiddleford sighed. “Yes, Ah know. But this is important, Stanford!”

“That _thing_ is dangerous!” Stanford snapped.

Stanley stepped forward. “Hey! Lay off him. Not like you haven’t made something big and dangerous, right?”

“At least I _know_ they’re dangerous!” Stanford agreed. Now Stanley was taking Fiddleford’s side? He should’ve guess; Stanley would take anyone’s side as long as it was against Stanford. But those kids weren’t defending them.

Stanley scoffed. “Yeah, right! Then why’d I find you huddled up in here barking like you expected someone to come steal your eyes or whatever?”

“Gravity Falls is a dangerous place, okay?” Stanford shot a pointed look at Fiddleford. “Which is why we need to dominate these fears and prepare ourselves for more dangers, not just _forget_ about them!”

“It doesn’t hurt!” Fiddleford countered. “Some people can’t handle the madness of this town! Is it better to let them tear themselves up about somethin’ they can’t change, or let them live their lives without needing to worry about them?”

“That’s ridiculous, Fiddleford!” Stanford snapped. “Not dealing with something is not a choice! These sort of things happen all over the globe. More of its concentrated here than anywhere else. What if that machine backfires? What if something goes wrong? What if that machine malfunctions? It could backfire or you could mistype and you could forget how to breath!”

“Ah highly doubt that would happen,” Fiddleford stated dryly.

Dipper stepped into the room, then, Mabel at his side. Stanford stepped back to avoid being trodden upon. “It’s dangerous, though! Even if you don’t misspell something, using it too much can cause some serious damage!”

Mabel chipped in, “And you’ll forget everything if you use it too much.”

Fiddleford looked them over. “What do you mean?”

Dipper sighed. “It has really big side-effects that you didn’t really notice until it was too late. If you use it too much, it damages your brain.”

“Then you can’t remember anything or make any new memories,” Mabel agreed.

Stanford quickly went on, “See? It is dangerous. They’ve seen the effects of it, haven’t you?”

“Yeah.” The kids’ voices took on a dejected tone.

Dipper stamped a hoof. “That’s why you have to destroy it.”

“Dest- look, why don’t ya just tell me what went wrong an’ Ah can fix it?” Fiddleford offered. “If it’s just bein’ overzealous Ah could always find a way to tone it down.”

Mabel shook her head. “You have to break it, Mr. McGucket!”

“There’s no fixing it!” Dipper agreed.

“Now, any machine that has a quirk can be fixed. There’s no such thing as somethin’ broken that can’t be fixed.”

Dipper pouted. “It’s still way too dangerous. In the future, we were trying to find the Society of the Blind Eye to learn who founded it! They kidnapped people, Mr. McGucket! And-and they wouldn’t let us find you! They forgot about you, Mr. McGucket. They all did. _You_ did!”

“And Ivan took over,” Mabel agreed. “He’s a poophead that tried wiping all of our memories so we wouldn’t look for them ever again.”

Fiddleford stared at them. “What do you mean they forgot about me? That _I_ forgot about me? That doesn’t make any sense.”

Dipper crossed his arms. “I know it doesn’t. But in our time, you used the memory gun so much it destroyed your brain, so you couldn’t even make new memories and you forgot your old ones. And the Society threw you out. No one really cared because no one knew Ford, either, or anything that happened here. So, no one really knew you. You turned into this crazy old man who lived in the dump who everyone thought was just the local kook. The only reason we found you was because Ford’s journal talked about the Blind Eye and his theory on it and you suddenly remembered it existed and we all went there to get your memories and that’s how we found out you were the founder and that you knew the author- er, Ford.”

Stanford chipped in, “Where was I in all this?”

The twins looked up at him. Dipper answered quickly, “That’s not the point.”

“What? No. Why would I just stand here while my best friend drives himself insane?” Stanford huffed. He’d never abandon his friend like that. There was a reason he wanted that stupid machine broken.

Dipper took a deep breath. “You weren’t here for thirty years. That’s why. You disappeared, and Stan didn’t know Fiddleford was your friend or that he was going crazy.”

“Where did I go?” Stanford was more curious, now, that anything else. Dipper looked at Mabel. Suddenly, Stanford was apprehensive. Maybe… he didn’t want to know.

Dipper’s voice was forced. “You disappeared into the, uh, portal.”

Stanford could hardly breathe. “ _What?_ ”

“You hid your journals and then you got Stan and showed him the portal and told him to leave again. The portal reactivated, and you got sucked in.” Dipper stopped talking.

Mabel continued, “And then Stan tried for thirty whole years to bring you back and tried finding the other two journals! And he did! He got you out of the portal that summer we visited.”

 

_Stanley_

“And then Stan tried for thirty whole years to bring you back and tried finding the other two journals! And he did! He got you out of the portal that summer we visited.” Mabel smiled a cautious, hopeful smile.

Stanley looked at her and then at Stanford. The man had paled considerably. “What portal?”

“How did you know about that?” Stanford asked. A sudden hard, suspicious look crawled into his deep brown eyes.

“What do you mean thirty years?” Stanley agreed. “He was gone?” _Ford was gone? For thirty whole years? And Stanley had brought him back? What could Stanley do that Ford couldn’t, save for throwing a punch?_

“Yes, he was,” Dipper answered. “Ford was gone, but you brought him back. But it took a while because you needed the journals to activate it again. We thought you were lying because Ford- he, uh, we hadn’t seen him.”

“But Grunkle Ford came back and you two live in the Mystery Shack again. Mr. McGucket is regaining his memories!” Mabel piped up, her smile genuine.

Stanley asked, “So, if everyone’s here, anyway, why would the timelines be broken or whatever?”

Dipper flicked his ears back. “Because that’s the thing: Ford disappeared for thirty years and Mr. McGucket went crazy a little while after you got here. We only had one great uncle when we were born.”

“So… that means…” Stanford’s eyebrows knitted together. “That since Stanley came back and Fiddleford hasn’t–and won’t-abuse the memory gun, and the portal is broken, the timeline was changed. The only way you could stay existing was if that all happened.”

Mabel’s hopeful smile was gone. Dipper slowly nodded. “Maybe.”

“But we wouldn’t do anything like that!” Mabel pointed out. “We’ll just have to figure this out together.”

“It is you or us,” Stanford mused, his voice oddly calm. “The only way you could return home safely and without being destroyed is if we are given up, is that right?”

Mabel’s eyes went wide. She shook her head. “No! No, no, no! We wouldn’t do that. We just got back together again!”

Stanley focused on his brother. “Yeah, Ford. Don’t get all dramatic on us.”

Stanford’s gaze flicked to Stanley. “Don’t you see? It’s either their future or ours, Stanley!” That weird glint came to his eyes. It was the same one Stanley had seen when they he and Mabel were at the front door and Stanford greeted them with a crossbow in his hands. It was apprehension, paranoia,  _fear._ “In order for them to go home, they’ll have to reenact history in some way!”

“Look, maybe not,” Stanley tried.

“There is no ‘maybe not’, Stanley!” Stanford countered.

Dipper stamped his front hooves, both to gain attention and get between Mabel and Stanford. He glowered at Stanford, ears pinned and nose wrinkled. “Mabel and I are going back home, okay? I-I don’t care what you say!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Journal 3: "Memory Gun"  
> "I didn't hesitate to let F know that, despite his good intentions, this device was far too dangerous to keep." ... "He was crestfallen, but after some discussion he came to see the wisdom in it. He said that he didn't want to risk forgetting his wife and son. I ordered him to destroy the gun and he did. At least I think he did... I can't quite remember..."  
> Warning signs, Stanford.
> 
> Fallen Under: Kingdom  
> Chapter 7: True Knife  
> “You can’t even answer, can you?” Flowey prompted. “No. Because you don’t want to die. But you don’t want to stray from your morals. But deep down inside, all of us are selfish. All of us just want to survive. Sometimes, that means killing a few people.”  
> ~Flowey.
> 
>    
> [Weep, womp. Mabel strikes in the night!](https://i.pinimg.com/564x/19/94/74/1994743cf0391780b9b1f0e13b98b184.jpg)  
> Honestly, though. Bill's a manipulative sonovagun and he knows it. The memory gun is a bad, bad thing. If I'm going to be honest with myself, I would get addicted to that gun quicker than you can say "'Old Man' McGucket". I have a God-awful memory, but dumb things keep resurfacing. Like how I was mean to that one teacher back in high school or middle school or whatever. Conversations about... very adult things that are happening to people--especially children and women--around the country. If there was just a way that I could snuggle up to my computer and write for as long as I wanted without having to think about everything that weighs down my soul...
> 
> So, anyway, a fight breaks out! Have fun!


	15. Guys, Stop It! Join Hands!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are beginning to escalate...

_Dipper_

Dipper stamped his front hooves, inadvertently leaving marks on the wood floor. He glowered at Stanford, ears pinned and nose wrinkled. “Mabel and I are going back home, okay? I-I don’t care what you say!”

“You started this!” Stanford shot back. “It was your time travel nonsense that put you into this mess!”

 _He’s bigger than you, Dipper._ A tiny voice in the back of his mind piped up. Dipper put it down.

Stanley cut in, “He’s a kid, Stanford, it’s what they do! They get in trouble! He didn’t mean anything!”

Stanford turned on him. “He’s endangered his own life. He has no right to endanger ours!”

Dipper huffed, “I was only trying to prevent myself from dooming my entire town to a whole month of being monsters! And some monsters that were human. I was only trying to fix my mistake!”

“Well you made a whole slew of new ones,” Stanford growled.

 _He’s mad at you. He’s bigger and older and he’ll kill you!_ Dipper struggled to put down that stupid voice in the back of his head. It had never done him any good. It had just made him scared of his family and friends.

“Guys, stop!” Mabel interjected, trying to get between Dipper and Stanford. “This isn’t doing anything good!”

“You helped him!” Stanford barked. “It was your fighting that brought you here! If you hadn’t been so stupid as to fight, none of this would’ve happened!”

Mabel whined, tears now coming to her eyes. Dipper felt the pain of that blow and it hadn’t been directed at him. Mabel didn’t back down. “I know! Dipper and I were dumb, but we’re trying! I just want everyone to be happy again! We both do!”

“Well you ended up screwing up the timelines!” Stanford agreed.

Dipper bleated and stamped his hooves, now getting between Mabel and Stanford. The instinct to lower his head and bare the lame excuse of horns he had was struggling with his instinct to bolt. _Now he’s attacking your sister? Fight him! Make him sorry!_ “Mabel and I fought, but it wasn’t her fault! Don’t blame her, she was only doing what was right!” He stamped his sharp front hooves, something that–to any other type of aggressor–was a threat and invitation to fight. His ears twitched, pushing the hat off his head. “I was the one who picked up that dumb time machine, don’t get mad at her!”

Stanley butted in this time. “Like you would’ve done anything different, _Stanford!_ He knows he messed up and he’s trying to make it right! They’re twelve for Pete’s sake!”

Stanford turned on him. “And they knew it was dangerous when they stole future equipment. They don’t even know how the damn things work!”

“Yeah, we do!” Dipper countered, blatantly lying in his defense.

Stanford rounded on him. “You didn’t even know that watch kept a backlog of events until you wished you had one! Don’t lie to me.”

“This is gettin’ ridiculous. Ya’ll need to calm down and think about this rationally!” Fiddleford was keeping his own volume and tone under control way better than either of the older twins.

Stanford growled. “I’m not the bad guy, here! I’m _trying_ to make sure none of us get wiped out of existence!”

Mabel couldn’t help but pipe up, “Us, too! We’re trying to make things good again!”

Stanley crossed, “Yeah? We’re fine, Stanford, it’s these two who are in trouble. I don’t care what your coward self says, these are _kids!_ They’re our future _family!_ ”

“If we have a future,” Stanford agreed. “Who the hell knows, by this point?”

“We’re a family,” Mabel agreed. Tear streaks fell down her cheeks and chin, now. “A-and we’ll get through this together!”

Stanford huffed, “Why can’t you understand that there is no fixing this?! Because you changed the timeline _now_ , there’s no guessing what will happen in the _future!_ There’s no guessing if your parents will even meet! If they do, how they’ll raise you!”

Mabel squeaked something, but it was hard to understand. Dipper took her hand in his. “You don’t know that!”

“I’ve been studying anomalies since I was in _college_ , Dipper! I’ve been here in Gravity Falls for seven years. Don’t you dare tell me what I do or don’t know!”

Stanley bristled. “Maybe the kids are right and you just don’t want to admit it. You never admit you’re wrong! Even when two kids from the future tell you so!”

“They don’t know that!” Stanford hissed. “They don’t even know how to work that technology!” He took a step forward. “And you don’t pretend you know, either, you damn criminal!”

“Why you sonova-” Stanley started, taking a step forward as well.

Fiddleford jumped between them. “Stop it! You’re fighting is getting us nowhere!”

 _Move! Move! MOVE! They’re going to HURT you! He will HURT you! He’ll kill you! Don’t you know what he is in the future?! He’s a lion! Lions eat deer!_ Dipper struggled to put down the fear that shot through him. He still took a shaky step back. Mabel raised her shaky voice, “Please! Stop it! We-we can figure this out!”

“Yeah, we can,” Stanford agreed. “By destroying that damn machine! Nothing good is going to come from this!”

“Ah will not let you destroy this,” Fiddleford countered. “It is the children’s only hope of getting back home!”

“They don’t have any hope!” Stanford barked. “How can you be so blind!? They’re doomed! I’m not letting them drag us down with them!”

“You, you mean?” Stanley growled. “You’re not letting them drag _you_ down? You just want to hide here in the cabin all alone because you’re too selfish and scared to do anything else?”

“I’M SELFISH!?” Stanford barked. The only reason he had not engaged Stanley in a fist fight now was because her college friend stood between them. “They’re going to doom us all! I’m looking out for everyone!”

“Bulls- You’re looking out for yourself!” Stanley snarled.

Stanford took a step forward, his boot hitting the ground with a _thump!_

_No! HE’S GOING TO HURT YOU! RUN! RUN! **RUN!!**_

 

_Dipper, nose in his book, walked through the gift shop door of the Mystery Shack. His ears twitched as he scanned the room with his nose and ears while keeping his eyes and conscious attention on his book. Grunkle Stan had been through here recently with Wendy. Mabel’s tank rolled through here. She should probably change water. Soos hadn’t been here in a while. Ford currently lay in front of the vending machine._

_Dipper stopped and lifted his head. Stanford lay on his belly with all four legs tucked under him and tail curled around him. His wings stayed pinned to his sides. He stared at his own reflection in the vending machine with the intensity of a hunting cat. Dipper stopped moving altogether. His tail and ears flicked up and his heartbeat sped up._

_“Dipper Pines.”_

_Dipper stared at him. “Wh-what? Are you okay Great Uncle Ford?”_

_“Answer me,” Ford went on in a monotone voice. “What has rivers with no water, land with no dirt, mountains with no stone, and forests with no trees?”_

_Dipper’s thoughts had been set in the backburner as the instinct telling him to run away tore at him. “Er… I don’t know?”_

_Ford’s ears flicked back and his eyes turned up so that he looked at Dipper in the reflective glass. There was something wrong with his eyes… Dipper couldn’t see his irises. Stanford’s pupils had dilated so much that Dipper could no longer see the color in his eyes. “Wrong answer.” In an instant, Ford was on his feet. He whipped around and growled at Dipper, ears flicked back, tail whipping back and forth, and gargantuan claws digging into the wood. Dipper dropped the book with a scream and bounded away. Ford tore after him. Dipper, his fight-or-flight sense jammed in the “flight” position, leaped over the Bottomless Pit. He spanned the fifteen-foot gap. Hopefully Ford couldn’t–Ford cleared the Pit with ease. He didn’t even need to use his wings._

_Dipper bolted through the pine and birch woods that surrounded the Shack. His hooves flew over the ground with a mind of their own. He only concentrated on going faster and expanding the gap between him and his great uncle. Through the painfully fast beating of his heart and the hissing of branches that whipped past him, he could hear his pursuer. The massive body behind him cleared feet of ground with each bound. Dipper could feel the heat of the sphinx’s breath on his ankles._

_Dipper landed on a root and tensed in preparation for a rather large jump over rougher ground. The sphinx lashed out. Dipper’s back legs were swiped out from under him just as they extended. Dipper launched himself over the brush and roots but, due to his imbalance, tumbled through the leaves and branches. He landed on his back. The shock alone caused him to freeze. He bleated as a six-toed paw slammed down on his furry chest. He could see those wild eyes, those giant fangs._

_Dipper shut his eyes and struck with all his might. The paw retracted with a strangled hiss. The awful stench of blood rushed into him. The hot, sticky liquid dribbled down one of his back hooves. Dipper flipped himself over and ran, kicking up leaves and dabbing the molded foliage in red. Stanford, a paw on his bleeding nose, did not pursue him._

 

Dipper’s eyes grew round and his pupils dilated. He let out a bleating shriek and nearly flipped himself over turning and bolting out of the living room. _Don’t kill me, don’t kill me, don’t kill me, don’t kill me!_

“DIPPER!” Mabel cried and followed. She stopped herself as Dipper, scrambling to keep a hold of the slick linoleum, nearly sliced open her chest with one of his back hooves. He was outside and running in seconds. Mabel, despite having no dreams of catching up to him, followed at a dead sprint. Fiddleford ran past the older twins with a venomous curse. When Stanford attempted to follow, Stanley decked him. The man staggered back, momentarily stunned and eyes watering from the pain in his nose. He was quick to recover and reciprocate.

Trees flashed by Dipper. His long strides, uninterrupted by the pain in his hindquarters that had been masked by fear and adrenaline, brought him faster and farther into the wood. It was only by his monster instinct that he didn’t trip or stumble.

Mabel ran, but not because she was trying to catch up to Dipper. She’d been with him in one of his episodes before. He’d make his way back to her once he’d calmed down. Now, she was running because she could still hear Stanley and Stanford shouting at each other. Eventually, as the sounds of any civilized life faded into nothingness, she slowed down. She collapsed under a tree and, sobs racking her shivering body, curled up in a ball with her sweater hiding her reddened face from sight.

Fiddleford finally caught up to her, his breaths coming in wheezing gasps. She turned away from him when he attempted to approach. So, instead, he sat down nearby, waiting for her sniffling and hiccupping to subside.

Half a mile away, Dipper stumbled to a stop. The gurgling of a stream met his ears. Dipper collapsed by the stream side, shuttering in the pain that was starting to come back to him. He looked back. His bandages were turning a heavy pink. Some parts were started to darken into a more vibrant red. Dipper groaned and leaned on a tree, his legs folded haphazardly beneath him. He shut his eyes tight and concentrated on the area around him. Birds flew and sang. Squirrels chittered and skittered about. Rabbits hopped through the brush. More deer roamed in the forest. The wind murmured through the trees. Far away, a bear munched on a berry bush.

 

_Mabel_

Mabel couldn’t see anything past her vibrant sweater. She could hardly hear anything around her. She did know that Fiddleford was nearby. He waited at a respectful distance, quiet and calm. Eventually, he prompted, “Hey, Little miss?”

Mabel shook her head. “Mabel’s not here. She’s in Sweater Town.”

“Well, then, may Ah visit Sweater Town?”

“Sweater Town is not accepting any visitors.”

“Ah understand.” After a heartbeat of silence, Fiddleford went on, “Ah’m real sorry ya had to see that, Mabel. Stanford is a… he’s an interesting man. He just doesn’t handle things that well. He’s scared, just like the rest of us. But he’s a good man. Deep down, he’s scared for you, too. He doesn’t mean to be mean.” Mabel tried to speak, but all that came out was a whine. She hiccupped and retreated farther into herself. “Ahh, but Ah understand.” Another moment of silence. “What do you think of you, your brother, and Ah goin’ out for some ice cream until things calm down a bit?”

Mabel peaked out from her sweater. “Really?”

Fiddleford nodded, a smile coming to him. “We’re all stressed a bit, Mabel. Some time outside is best for us all.”

Mabel sniffled and, leaving her sweater completely, wiped her eyes. “O-okay. But, we have to wait for Dipper first.”

“What do ya normally do when Dipper runs off?”

“We have to wait,” Mabel explained. “He’s probably really far away. But he’s good at getting unlost.”

“Oh, that’s good. Ah wouldn’t want him wanderin’ about the forest by himself.” Fiddleford smiled. “We’ll get this figured out, Mabel.”

“Promise?”

“Cross ma heart.”

 

_Stanford_

Stanford paced the length of his kitchen. A fresh pain throbbed in his left temple and his nose was still very sore. New bruises now brushed his arm and chest and pangs of pain scratched the backside of his ribs. Stanford wasn’t nearly as strong as he pretended to be, even on his strict food and exercise regimen. Stanley was still stronger than him. Picking a fist fight with his brother was a very dumb thing to do. But he didn’t start it, Stanley did!

 _Ugh._ Stanford tried to sit down at the table, but he ended up standing up and pacing again. This was foolish! This was dumb! Ugh, it was all because of that boy! If he had just listened to his instincts and left the boy outside, this wouldn’t have happened. If he wasn’t blinded by the prospect of having a new friend, of having a stable person in his life that wasn’t out to get him or ignoring him for his idiocy, this wouldn’t have happened. If Stanford had stayed paranoid and he stayed smart about the whole thing, he wouldn’t be caught up in this mess. He could have just thrown him to the other monsters in Gravity Falls and let them deal with him. The boy was a monster, now. There were probably herds of monsters that would’ve taken care of him and who would’ve kept to themselves enough not to endanger him.

But there was no use dwelling on “what-ifs”. The time for inaction had come to an end. Stanford stopped and looked at the door to the living room. If Fiddleford was going to choose them over Stanford, then he may as well just stay with them. They could go over to his place to work on that stupid machine. They could leave Stanford in peace. Then Stanford could focus on finding a way to defeat Bill and kill Shifty, who was still on the loose, might he add. He’d have to kick out Stanley, too. It couldn’t be that difficult. It only took a duffle bag of his things and his father’s hate to drive Stanley away for what Stanford thought was for good. Well, Stanley hadn’t gone back to New Jersey so it had worked.

Stanford tried to resume his pacing, but he ended up sitting down at the table.

_“Until you make us millions, you’re not welcome in this household!”_

_“What?! Stanford, tell him he’s being crazy! …Stanford? High six?”_

Yeah, Stanley had left, alright. He’d been banished and he didn’t come back. The first time in over ten years Stanford had seen him, and Stanley had been with a young girl seeking to fix a ticking time bomb. He’d been nothing but a nuisance while he was here, teasing him and pushing him around. It’s like they were teens again and Stanley was just…

Stanford’s froze. It’s like they were teens again… and Stanley was pushing him around. But they’d never really fought as teens. Stanford never fought anyone, he submitted. He’d run off to hide behind his brother. Stanley was the one who fought. When he fought, he fought _hard._ But when he tussled with Stanford, the worst Stanford got was a hug that squeezed the breath out of him or a headlock that stopped any hope of escape and would end in a noogie. Not even when Stanford beat up on Stanley did the man ever fight back with a fraction of what he had. But now… Stanford put a hand to his aching head. God what an idiot he was! Stanley wasn’t fighting him because he was a stubborn, hot-headed, selfish ass. Stanford was threatening someone Stanley was protecting with his life.

God dammit.

Stanford closed his eyes. Why did it take him this long to realize that? Stanley wasn’t the bad guy here, was he? Fiddleford took his side. Level-headed, strong-hearted, moral-compass Fiddleford with more heart than courage and more common sense than practicality took Stanley’s side. He wasn’t the traitor, Stanford was. He’d made a little girl cry and her brother run off. They were right about him. They had him pinned all along. _God dammit._

 

_Stanley_

Stanley paced the attic, now. He wasn’t as beaten up as Stanford. Honestly, though the livid hate that made his heart beat faster and blood boil, a pang of regret for their overly rough quarrel stabbed at him. Stanford had started the fight. He’d yelled at the kids and caused Dipper to run away and Mabel to cry. But Fiddleford was right. They should’ve taken a few breaths and thought it out. But, instead, temperamental Stanley had given Stanford a bloody nose. Now his own wounds had reopened. Stanley’s bruises and cuts ached worst now that he’d been hit a few times.

Stanley sat down, wincing as he did so. The image of the fleeing children branded his mind. Those poor kids. Dipper had panicked, and Mabel ran after him. Stanley had defended them, sure, but fighting hadn’t been the way to do so. In fact, it was probably one of the worst. Still, that’s how he worked out his problems. That’s how he’d defended Stanford as a kid. He’d fight and fight until he was black and blue and then he’d drag his tail home and let Stanford and Ma patch him up. That almost always worked. No one but Crampelter would pick on Stanford while Stanley was around. In fact, few other bullies tried their luck even when Stanley wasn’t around. More often than not, the twins were never alone. If you could only see one, it was because the second was just out of sight.

When he and Stanford fought, they were words yelled back and forth harder than any punch. If they’d been in the house, Ma would separate them with a “Boys, calm down. What’s the matter here?” or Pa would grab Stanley by the scruff of his shirt–or the collar, which he only did when Stanley was going to get the brunt of it–and scold them both. God forbid they fight while there were customers in the pawn shop or when Ma was on the phone. But now? Jesus, he should’ve just calmed down and talked it out, at least in front of the kids. They probably resented him, and they’d have all the right in the world to do so. He’d thrown the first punch, escalating their shouting match into a fist fight. Fiddleford had been the only one to be sensible enough to try and tame their shouting match to discussion.

Stanley tried to summon anger, to summon indignance or blame, but it was impossible. He was an idiot who just couldn’t learn. Once those kids got back home, it would just be better for them all to go their separate ways again. It would be safer and it would be more practical. Stanford had earned this cabin. Stanley hadn’t earned anything but a death sentence from Rico.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **What Causes a Volcano to Erupt?**  
>  What determines the size of an eruption?  
> "Ultimately, the size of an eruption will depend on the thickness of the magma, the density of gases it contains and the amount of new magma being pushed into the magma chamber. Basaltic lava allows gas to escape easily, resulting in smaller eruptions, while andesitic and rhyolotic lava makes it harder for the gas to escape, leading to larger eruptions."
> 
> Typical volcanic hazards  
> "Lava is often thought to be the main danger of a volcanic eruption, but this is not the case. Numerous hazards result from eruptions and they can have a range of consequences. The most dangerous are the pyroclastic clouds, which destroy anything in their path. Other hazards include ash clouds, ash rain, mudslides, earthquakes, tsunamis, odd weather patterns and glacial flooding."  
> ~Ariella Heffernan-Marks "Why Do Volcanoes Erupt?", Cosmos: The Science of Everything
> 
>  
> 
> It was bound to happen sooner or later. Also: Guest starring a scene in "The Water May be Sweet".  
> Also, also: If you forgot, let me put this in perspective: Stanford still has kitten stickers on his face.


	16. Will You Give Me a Second Chance?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fight, flight, or freeze... and it's unfortunate how each person takes it.

_Dipper_

Dipper and Mabel left with Fiddleford to get ice cream. Fiddleford looked over Dipper’s hurt leg and, though he wasn’t as good as Stanford, did try and fix him up again. It had hurt, but the pain medicine had helped a bit. The ice cream after was more than enough to banish it from his mind. Since they couldn’t go out to town, they stayed at Fiddleford’s house. There, after a discussion about the future and how the kids impressed upon him the danger of the gun, Fiddleford left. When he came back, he held the broken memory gun.

Fiddleford was a really nice man, Dipper found. Mabel was right. Whatever they did, they had to think of the good of everyone–including Fiddleford. Mabel had been right to bring them back together in hopes of getting them to become friends again.

Later on, Fiddleford drove them back to the cabin so that he could continue working on the time machine. Dipper stayed outside under the shade of one of the conifers.

Mabel patted his arm. “Don’t you want to come inside?”

Dipper flicked an ear back. “Stanford’s in the kitchen. Fiddleford just went into the living room. I think… Stanley might be in the attic.” Dipper plucked at a low hanging branch. “I’m fine. I wanna sit outside for a little while, okay?”

Mabel frowned. “Okay. Promise you’ll come inside soon, though?”

“Yeah. I won’t stay out long,” Dipper answered. Being outside was so calming, though. Dipper didn’t know such a tranquility could be achieved by staying outside under the shade of a tree, smelling the summer wind and listening the noon birdsong.

Although Mabel didn’t seem very happy with his answer, she nodded. “Okay. See you in a little bit, Dipper!”

“See you later.” Dipper smiled back at her. She left. Dipper went back to plucking little juniper berries from the lower branches and nibbling on them.

 

_Mabel_

Mabel peeked around the corner. It had been some time since their latest squabble. Stanley was in the attic, pretending the door to the downstairs didn’t exist. Fiddleford had taken to scooting further into his corner. Dipper was in the yard, gnawing on a few twigs from one of the trees beside the cabin. Stanford sat at the kitchen table, arms crossed on the table and head down. There were a few papers beneath his arms, but there was no way Stanford was concentrating on them. One of the papers was peppered by vibrant stickers of kittens and rainbows and one labeled “RAD” and a personal favorite of hers “RISE AN’ PINES”. Mabel could see the tenseness in his muscles and how he hunched his shoulders and how the light caught his glasses just right. His fingers were curled up on the table and he stared down at the wood. To him, and anyone else, this was his unapproachable look–the “I’m mad, don’t come near me, don’t talk to me” look. Mabel was not just anyone. She saw nothing but a broken teacup, aching to be repaired but too scared and sensitive and hurt to ask. Fighting wasn’t the way. Fighting only hurt people more.

Mabel let go of the door frame and walked up to him. Stanford’s eyes flicked down to her. “Mabel? I thought you were with Fiddleford.”

Mabel nodded seriously. “I was.”

“You should go back. Or talk to your brother. He’s outside.” He moved his hand in half-gesture toward the door.

Mabel frowned. “Grunkle Ford, I want you to know that it’s okay for you to be mad.” She set a hand on her own arm. “I was kinda mad, too. Everyone was.”

Stanford stared at the table again. “Mabel, I told you that you and your brother were going to die.”

Mabel flinched and nodded. “I know. But you’re scared. I get that. I’m scared, too.” She let go of her arm and tugged at Stanford’s coat sleeve.

Stanford let go of the table and looked at her. “Mabel, please. I’m sure Stanley would like to talk to you more or something.”

Mabel ignored him. Instead, she got up on her tip-toes and coiled her arms around him in a hug. Stanford tensed. Mabel shut her eyes and buried her face in his chest. “It’s okay, Grunkle Ford. I love you.”

 

_Stanford_

“It’s okay, Grunkle Ford. I love you.”

At first, Stanford did nothing. He looked down at her. “Wh-what?”

Mabel opened one eye and smiled up at him. “I love you, Grunkle Ford!”

“B-but I… I…” Stanford sputtered. “I hurt you.”

Mabel nodded. “You’re scared. But that doesn’t make you a bad person. You’re doing what you think is right. You’re protecting Grunkle Stan and Mr. McGucket, too.” She shut her eyes, again. “I forgive you, Grunkle Ford.”

Stanford bit his tongue. This little girl just… he didn’t deserve it. He told her she was going to die and she _hugged him?_ He told her that it would be better to keep the thing broken and let her and her brother fade away and she _forgave him?_ Stanford didn’t deserve this. Stanford wasn’t a good guy. He was selfish and cruel. He’d done so many atrocious things. Yet this little girl whom he condemned to die–yet another unforgivable thing on his list of sins–was telling him otherwise.

Mabel looked up at him again, a passive smile on her lips, all the love and trust in the world in her eyes. Stanford slipped off his chair, got down on one knee, and hugged her back. He smiled and shut his eyes tight, ignoring the pressure in his head. In a voice smaller and quieter than he thought possible, he mumbled, “Thank you, Mabel.”

Mabel chuckled. “Are you okay, Grunkle Ford?”

“Yes.” He pursed his lips as a sudden salty tang touched the edge of his mouth.

 

_Stanley_

Stanley heard the door open downstairs. Fiddleford and the kids were back, probably. Stanley stood up and looked out the window. Yep. Fiddleford’s car was back. Stanley stretched and strolled toward the door, hands in his pocket. He should go talk to them, probably. Maybe see if Fiddleford was almost finished with that time machine.

When he went downstairs, he found Fiddleford melting into the background, completely focused on his work. More importantly, he found Stanford leaving the kitchen. Little footsteps pattered off in the kitchen.

Stanford held his hands behind him back and took a deep breath. “Stanley. I… I’m sorry.”

Stanley raised his eyebrows. “What?” _What?_

Stanford went on, “I acted in a cruel way. I shouldn’t have said what I had said and I shouldn’t have done what I have done. You were right. I was just doing what I was doing for my own sake. I’m sorry for pushing you away, Stanley.”

For a moment, all Stanley could do was stare. “You’re… apologizing?”

Stanford nodded. “Yes. I know that nothing I say will excuse what I’ve done. I’m not asking to be forgiven. I know that I wouldn’t forgive me. But you deserve to know the truth. You deserve to be treated better than I treated you. Then how Pa treated you.” Stanford was no longer looking him in the eyes. His fingers were interlocked behind his back and he’d furrowed his eyebrows. “You’ve been helping these children without thought to what will happen to your own life. I’ve been the selfish one, Stanley. I’m sorry.”

_The little twelve-year-old boy curled on the flat rock he’d climbed onto. He hiccupped and rubbed his eyes, causing his streaked glasses to ride up on his face. His look-alike sat beside him, watching the boy struggle to choke out an apology. “I-I’m sorry, Stan. I-I didn’t m-mean to-to hurt you. I didn’t kn-know–I-I was being mean a-and–”_

_The boy beside him shook his head and pulled the other boy in for a hug. “It’s okay, Sixer. I know you didn’t mean it.”_

_Stanford coiled his arms around Stanley in a huge, burying his face in his brother’s chest, trying to whimper another apology._

Stanley sighed. “Yeah, I know. But, uh, heh. Like he said. I deserved to be- but it wasn’t your fault.”

“I didn’t stop him.” Stanford shook his head, trying to put on a hard, defiant look. It almost worked. “You didn’t deserve to be thrown out. I should’ve stopped him. Even after you left, I was too stubborn to call you back. I haven’t seen you in ten years. When you did come back, I did _this_ and-and–”

Stanley cut Stanford off. Not with words, no. Instead, Stanley did really the only think he could think of doing. He pulled Stanford in for a hug that squeezed the air out of him. Stanford didn’t complain. With shaky arms, he returned the hug. Somewhere nearby, Stanley could hear a high-pitched, whistle-squeak. He smiled. That kid was magical.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **How We Can Tell Is a Volcano is Active, Dormant, or Extinct**  
>  Active:  
> "Any volcano that is erupting is considered active. That's a no-brainer. However, a volcano showing signs of unrest--let's say earthquake swarms, inflation, abundant degassing of carbon dioxide and/or sulfur dioxide--that would be active as well. The USGS definition mentions that any volcano that has erupted during historic times could be considered "active". ... If there are clues that magma is on its way and an eruption might be in the works, that volcano is active."
> 
> Dormant:  
> "The USGS defines a dormant volcano as any volcano that is not showing any signs of unrest but could become active again. ... A truly dormant volcano by the USGS standards might be Clear Lake in California, which hasn't erupted in likely close to a hundred years."
> 
> Extinct:  
> "It takes a lot to be an "extinct" volcano. The rule of thumb I use is about 1 million years since the last eruption... and that's a long time! ... This doesn't mean that a new volcano can't form in the same place. ... There seems to be evidence that once a volcano is established in one location, it is a preffered path for magma to use for millions of years--but that might be in bursts of 500,000 years, then quiet for a million, then a new volcano."  
> ~Erik Klemetti, wired.com, "HOW TO TELL IF A VOLCANO IS ACTIVE, DORMANT, OR EXTINCT"
> 
>  
> 
> Inspiration for Mabel and Ford's part goes here for the [first part](http://weirdmageddon.tumblr.com/post/142481492428/imagine-ford-hearing-the-words-i-love-you-for) and here for the [second part](http://stariousfalls.tumblr.com/post/142490277920/no-noyou-guys-dont-understand). But, to be honest, it was [this picture](http://fav.me/d9ygwuf) that killed me. Not like the "Grunkle Ford, haven't you had a hug?" thing got to me or anything. Definitely. Psssh. I just liked the colors.  
> Inspiration for Dipper's, Mabel's, and Fiddleford's part [here!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9982469) (Amydiddle is awesome. Like, seriously. Check out her work!)
> 
> They need love. Like, all of them. Would it be ironic if I said I started writing this with no Stangst in my mind whatsoever? Just: I want to include Dipper. That's why Ford has such a large role. Mabel's the type of person I want to be. ;^;  
> 


	17. That's Not Like, Rare, Is It?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tears were shed and broken hearts repaired... hopefully, those won't be the only things fixed today.

_Dipper_

A while later, they were gathered around the living room table. Mabel had dashed outside like her hair was on fire and tugged on Dipper’s arm. “Dipper! Come quick!” Dipper, scrambling to his feet, followed her inside. In the living room, he’d seen Stanford and Stanley standing before each other. Dread and fear plucked at him at the prospect of another fight. But Mabel was happy and neither seemed mad.

“I didn’t stop him. You didn’t deserve to be thrown out. I should’ve stopped him. Even after you left, I was too stubborn to call you back. I haven’t seen you in ten years. When you did come back, I did _this_ and-and–” Stanford was cut off as Stanley brought him in for a hug. Mabel let out a mosquito-squeal, hands on her face and eyes round. He swore he could’ve seen stars in her eyes.

But now, after some time had passed, they were gathered in the living room. Fiddleford was still mostly concentrated on the machine. It was almost completely put together. A stack of papers in small handwriting and pictures was next to it. In front of Stanford was a box of books and scrolls that he now shuffled through. Stanley ruffled Mabel’s hair, causing her to giggle and hug him. Dipper looked at his own notebook, which was flipped past all the notes he’d taken and, admittedly, a few sketches of Wendy and confessions. “So, if we try and go into the future now… we’ll just disappear.”

Stanford nodded without turning away from his things. “That’s correct. Unless we reenact history, scattering the three of us to whatever fates you two were going on about, you two will not make it back to your time.”

Dipper gnawed on his pen. “Okay, so, we’ll just have to try and find a way to go back to our time even though we messed everything up right now.”

Mabel crossed her arms on the table and set her chin on her hands. She stared at the time machine Fiddleford was working with. She stuck out her tongue. “Humph. Time machine, stop being so stupid!” She tipped her head until it was on her side. The hourglass imprinted on the side with a circle around it was on its side, now. “Hey, Dipper? Can time go sideways?”

Dipper’s ears flicked forward. He looked up at Stanford. “Uh, can it?”

Stanford shook his head without looking up. “Time is linear. You can go forward or back, but you can’t go to the side because there is no side.”

Dipper gasped, “Wait, Grunkle Ford! That’s it!” Stanford stopped working and the older twins turned their attention to him. Fiddleford looked up as well. Dipper started chewing on his pen again. “If we can just find a way to move this time to the side, we can make this like a side universe or something!”

Stanford’s eyes went round. “Oh my God. That’s brilliant! We’ll need to find a way to split this timeline into two. We could turn this branch into an alternate universe parallel to yours. That way we can still go on the path we are currently taking and you two can go back to the one in your future!”

“How would we do that?” Stanley prompted.

Stanford’s smile fell a bit. “Oh. Right. We’d need to find a way to split the timeline first.”

 _Aw, man. If only older Great Uncle Ford was here! He knew a lot about dimensions and dimension hopping and stuff._ Dipper thought for a moment. “Hmm… well, future you was talking about how you needed to shut down the portal and all that. Since that thing is supposed to go to another dimension, do you think you could take some notes from that?” Dipper immediately saw in shift in mood between Stanford and Fiddleford. While the mechanic had tensed and shifted his gaze to the wood of the table to avoid giving Dipper a weird stare, Stanford shook his head.

“No.” Stanford was a bit quick in saying that. “That evil machine won’t be helping us. I don’t know how much of it Bi- was a lie.”

 _Oh, wait. Bill. Bill! Oh, no. What if Bill was listening? What if he was going to find some way to stop us?_ Dipper flicked his ears back. “What about Bill? What if he tries to stop us?”

“You know him?” Stanford’s voice became guarded.

Dipper nodded, his eyes round. “He’s been terrorizing us all summer!”

Mabel nodded knowingly. “He’s been pretty paranoid since Bill turned him into a living sock puppet.”

“That’s not important right now,” Dipper stated in a voice so quick he nearly cut her off.

Stanford frowned. “Well, regardless, you have a point. We’ll have to find some way to Bill-proof the cabin first.” He perked up. “Wait!” He pulled out his first journal and flipped through it. “I think I remember a way to Bill proof the cabin. But we’ll need moonstone, mercury, and…”

Mabel and Stanford groaned at the same time. “Ugh. Unicorn hair.”

 

_Mabel_

“Ugh. Unicorn hair.” Mabel pouted. She did _not_ want to meet another unicorn.

Stanford raised an eyebrow. “You’ve met the unicorns?”

“Yeah. I’ll go get it.” Mabel pushed herself away from the table and walked off. For good measure, she grabbed a baseball bat from inside of the cabinet.

Stanford turned to Stanley. “Okay, Stanley. You and Mabel go get the unicorn hair. That should take you a while.” He presented the journal for Stanley.

“Alright. We’ll be right back!” Stanley got up and hurried after Mabel.

He could just hear Stanford say, “Now, Dipper, we should go to my lab. I have something to show you…”

“So, Mabel. You’ve met a unicorn before?”

“Yeah and they’re the absolute worst!” Mabel huffed. “All they do is make you feel bad about yourself. They’re really selfish. They wouldn’t let us have their hair even though we were helping the whole Shack!” The harsh memory of Celestabellabethabel’s words poked at her heart again. But at least she learned one thing from the encounter, outside of unicorns being bad. _Morality is relative._

“Man, they must be real jerks.” Stanley looked around the forest. “So, how much farther into the woods before we find these things?”

“About an hour.”

 

About an hour later, they stood before the circle of stones that hid the unicorn’s lair. “Okay, Grunkle Stan. Now you have to chant a song from the book.”

Grunkle Stan flipped open the journal to the page about unicorns. Ignoring the “Pure of Heart” malarkey, he raised an arm and yelled the nonsense written on the page. For a moment, nothing happened. “Are you pranking me?”

Mabel shook her head. “Nope!”

Suddenly, the ground rumbled. Stone walls taller than Stanley burst from the ground and towered above them. Inscriptions of unicorns and magic scrawled over the stone. Stanley, mystified, opened the giant gates.

In the center of the clearing, a pale blueish horse with a rainbow mane and a cat tail that ended in a poof of rainbow hair, lay. The unicorn whinnied and threw her hair back. She stared at them with round, purple eyes. “Hark! Visitors to my realm of _enchantment!_ I am Celestabellebethabelle, last of my kind. Come in, come in. Just, take off your shoes. I have a whole thing about shoes.”

“Can it, Celestabellabethabel!” Mabel demanded. “I know you’re not the last of your kind and you’re hardly magic at all!”

The unicorn, taken aback, stood up. “What is this? How dare you come into my home with such _awful_ accusations!”

“We need your hair to complete a spell to protect our Shack,” Mabel stated with a firm nod.

Celestabellabethabel snorted. “Only the _purest of heart_ may take a lock of my beautiful hair. Child, unicorns can see deep into your heart–!”

“That’s a scam and you know it.”

Celestabellabethabel, losing a bit more ground, now, stamped one of her pink hooves. “Such accusations. You are no longer welcome here, human. The exit is that way.” Her horn glimmered as she pointed toward the door.

Mabel stepped forward anyway. _Stupid unicorns and their stupid hair._ Celestabellabethabel snorted and lowered her horn. “Oh, it’s a fight you want, then? It’s a fight you’ll get!”

 

_Stanford_

Stanford spoke. “Now, Dipper, we should go to my lab. I have something to show you. But first, Fiddleford? How much longer until it’s done, you think?”

Fiddleford didn’t look up. “Oh a few minutes, at best. Half an hour at worst.”

“Hmm… well, it’ll take a few hours for Dipper and me to find another way to ward off Bill.” Stanford took out a book and started looking through it. “May as well wait a few minutes.”

Dipper nodded and looked down at his own hands on the table. He flicked an ear back.

Eventually, both Stanford and Dipper were brought back to reality by Fiddleford. “Ah think it’s ready ta go.”

“Really?” Dipper perked up.

Fiddleford held out the repaired time machine. Dipper turned it over in his hands. Dipper played with the tape a bit before gently shutting it. “Whoa. This is amazing! Do you think it really works?”

“There’s only one way to find out.” Fiddleford smiled. “But we’ll have ta wait a while, a’ course.”

“Yes, we will,” Stanford agreed. “This is a bit of a precious situation, so we’ll have to be careful. Though I trust Stanley and Mabel will be back with the unicorn hair, we’ll have to be careful outside the Shack. We’ll have to get some mercury and moonstone–which I have–and set them up. But there are some things I should explain.”

 

Half an hour later, Stanford was finished setting up most of the shield. Now Stanford pulled out his books and notes on Bill, careful to avoid the ones explaining his relationship with him. He had a feeling if either of them knew he’d accepted Bill as a friend, he’d break any trust they had in him, now. Besides, it would confirm every suspicion Fiddleford had.

_“Where are these ideas coming from? Who are you working with?!”_

“Bill is a tricky entity, one of the most dangerous ones I’ve ever met or studied…”

 

_Stanley_

Stanley walked back with Mabel. He held the baseball bat o, now. Not that he needed it, of course. He also held a treasure chest which he knew had gold and gems in it. The baseball bat was laid over it. Mabel’s hands were full with unicorn hair. Unicorn blood and tears smudged them both. Mabel was a bit bruised and, admittedly, Stanley was as well. Who knew unicorns could hit that hard? More importantly, who knew that _Mabel_ could hit that hard?

“He’s gunna be pretty impressed when he sees you with this unicorn hair.”

Mabel grinned. “He was the last time I showed up with it!”

“Who was with you the last time you met them?” Stanley prompted.

“Wendy, Candy, and Grenda came with me,” Mabel explained. “They’re my girlfriends- the best ones a girl could have! Wendy’s a teenager, but she’s really cool. Grenda’s really strong and she doesn’t let anyone get in our way! Candy’s really smart and smart and likes a lot of weird things. When Celestabellabethabel bullied me, they all tried to help me. But then they decided to go up against her themselves because they knew I wanted to prove I was good.” Mabel nodded. “Then Celestabellabethabel’s friends came in and said that she was just a bully and the pure of heart thing was dumb and a scam. So, we got to beat them up and take their hair.”

 _Ah. Well, teens are pretty fierce. Good thing they had someone responcible to go with them. After all, if Mabel had stayed home, who knew what the other girls would’ve done._ Stanley chuckled to himself. This kid was the best.

The Shack was in sight now.

Stanford, Dipper, and Fiddleford were still at the table. He could just hear the end of Stanford’s speech. “…so, we can’t take any risks whatsoever.”

“Will Mabel and I help defend against Bill?” Dipper piped up.

“No, I’m afraid not. After we get this shield put up, we can concentrate on getting you two back home,” Stanford stated.

Mabel ran into the room and slammed her bloody fist down on the table, a bunch of unicorn hair within her clutches. “Did someone say: ‘unicorn hair’?”

The people around the table jumped. Stanford shook his head. “Er, no? But! You got it!”

Mabel laughed. “Oh, that would’ve been perfect. We got the unicorn hair!”

Stanley set the treasure chest on the table hard enough to cause it to shutter. Whoops. He plopped down in his seat between Stanford and Mabel. “And treasure!”

Stanford’s eyes went round. “Whoa! This is a great day! With this unicorn hair, we should be able to completely shield the shack from Bill’s mind-reading tricks!”

Mabel sat down next to Dipper. “Yep!”

“Alright, then.” Stanford nodded. “First, let’s create this shield.”

Stanley prompted, “So, did you nerds find a way to create a whole knew dimension or whatever?”

“You could say that.” Stanford got up. “Let’s talk while putting this up. This will take a while.”

“You got it!” Dipper grabbed the hair while Stanford pulled out some glue.

As they went around the shack meticulously gluing each thread of hair, they talked. Stanford smudged glue on the side of the house. “Now, what we could do is split this timeline.”

“But humans won’t be able ta make that sort of technology for another few thousand years,” Fiddleford piped up, handing another strand of hair to Stanford.

“Correct,” Stanford smoothed the hair down. “Another thing we could do is create a temporary portal.”

Dipper piped up, a strand of hair in his hand, “Then we could use that portal and the time machine at the same time to go back to our universe!”

Stanley asked, “And you can create a portal like that?”

Stanford hesitated and shook his head. “Unfortunately, no. Not on our own. We were thinking of finding some alien technology. There’s a spaceship here in Gravity Falls that Fiddleford and I raided for parts for years. Perhaps they have something like that that we can use to teleport to another dimension. Unfortunately, I can’t speak their language just yet.”

Mabel looked at the big circle in the ground. “Hey, Dipper? Didn’t you say that the Bottomless Pit was some sort of wormhole thingy?”

“Whoa, you’re right!” Dipper grinned and turned to her.

Stanford huffed as if slapped in the face. “Oh my God. Why didn’t I think of that?”

“Bottomless Pit?” Stanley’s gaze turned to the giant circle a few yards away.

Stanford nodded. “I studied this thing for a while. Some objects disappear while others come back. I’ve never jumped in myself to test if a human could go through.”

Dipper nodded. “People can go through. But we just come back.”

Stanford looked at Fiddleford. “What do you think, Fiddleford? If we’re able to somehow allow them to harness the energy in this wormhole to create a temporary, semi-natural portal to their own time?”

Fiddleford nodded slowly. “I reckon that’s possible. Ah might need ta see that watch a’ yours so Stanford and Ah can modify it.”

Dipper looked down at his watch. “Alright.” He carefully took it off and offered it to the mechanic.

Fiddleford carefully took it and looked it over. “If this is anythin’ like the time tape, it should be real easy modifyin’ it.”

“Good!” Stanford clapped his hands together. He was out of unicorn hair. “Stanley, you mind helping the kids finish the shield while Fiddleford and I modify this watch?”

“Sure.” Stanley shrugged and turned his attention to the kids. “Yeah, good job. Keep gluing that hair!” Mabel laughed and Dipper stuck out his tongue. Neither complained. Stanley watched his brother and friend disappear into the shack. He tried concentrating on the task at hand, but it was difficult. The kids were going to leave. In just a few hours–maybe a day–they’ll be gone.

Selfishly, Stanley wasn’t thrilled. He liked these kids. Still, they belonged in a different time with an older version of himself. An older, sadder version of himself who needed Mabel’s enthusiasm. An older, pricklier version of Stanford who could do with Dipper’s company. They were Pines, though. Maybe in a few years, Stanley would see them again. They wouldn’t know Stanford and Stanley. They wouldn’t know an alternate version of themselves changed Stan and Ford’s lives forever.

“Grunkle Stan!” Mabel exclaimed as she gave the last hair to Dipper. “We did it!”

Dipper glued the last hair to the side of the Shack. “Yep! It’s done!” The line of hair glowed. Then, the outside of the Shack shimmered and the light expanded until it was a rather large bubble. Unicorns and runes sparkled over the sides before the shield faded into invisibility.

“Nice job!” Stanley looked about and then turned to the kids. “You know what this calls for?”

Mabel looked at Dipper and then shrugged. “What?”

“Congratulatory noogies!”

“Oh no!” Mabel fake-gasped, but it was too late. Stanley swept the girl up. Dipper bounded just out of his reach. Mabel play yelled, “Oh no! Dipper, help!”

“I’ll save you!” Dipper charged Stanley and hugged him around the neck, causing them him to fall back and land in a heap of kids.

Mabel grinned. “Dipper, you know what this calls for?”

“…what?”

“Tickle attack!”

 

Though the sun was still in the sky, Stanley decided to cook dinner. They were all hungry after expending so much energy. Fiddleford and Stanford joined them. The watch was missing a panel, but other than that it looked good. The mechanic stated, “We’ve modified it to draw energy from that wormhole in the backyard. So, all you have to do is jump in.”

Stanford nodded. “You’ll need to be in the very center of the wormhole. How long did you say it took for you two to go completely through it?”

Mabel piped up, “Twenty-one minutes of storytelling!”

“So, that means at just about ten and a half minutes you should activate the watch and time-tape,” Stanford summed up.

Dipper looked down at his mostly eaten dinner of spaghetti. “Will this really work?”

“I’m confident it will,” Stanford replied. “I’ve studied this pit before. With Fiddleford’s mechanical genius and my research and knowledge, I’m very confident that we can return you to your own time.”

Dipper smiled. “I hope so. Thank you, Great Uncle Ford.”

“Thank you, Dipper.” Stanford suddenly grew quite serious. “This is the least we could do. You two have done much more for us than we could ever imagine. You reunited Stanley and I. You helped Fiddleford on the path to facing his fears when I couldn’t help him. You showed me my mistakes and told me how to fix them. You two are very good kids.”

Stanley laughed. “Yeah, man! If you little gremlins could get through my brother’s thick skull, you’ve gotta be talented. Alright, _our_ thick skulls.” He smirked as Stanford gave him a mock-annoyed look.

Fiddleford smiled. “Ah was so afraid of everythin’. Ah need to stop forgettin’ and start learnin’.”

Mabel teared up. She tried to squeak something, but whatever she said was impossible to understand. Dipper held his sister in a one-armed hug. She looked at him and then wiped her eyes. She whispered something to Dipper. He could barely make out the words. _“We fixed them, Dipper.”_

They fixed them indeed.

After dinner came the hard part. Fiddleford presented the place-watch to Dipper and the time-tape to Mabel. Stanford gave Dipper an alarm that was set to ten and a half minutes. Stanley watched the kids run up to the attic to take their things.

“Stanley, you look different.”

Stanley looked back at his brother. Stanford stood beside him. “It used to be people couldn’t tell us apart. Well, save for that dumb thing you did with your hair.”

“Shut up!” Stanley punched Stanford in the arm, causing the man to chuckle. “You’re the nerd who wore a button-up vest! Nah, we grew up different. I’m still the pretty one.”

“Not with that mullet.”

Stanley scoffed. “Yeah? What about those bags under your eyes you had a few days ago. You looked like a vampire!”

“Touché.” Stanford crossed his arms behind himself. “You know, Stanley. I’ve been thinking. I’ve lived in this cabin for many years, now. I’ve been studying these anomalies for years. I’ve been studying them since college.” He looked around the cabin. They still hadn’t replaced the door or the shelf. “I think it’s time for a change in scenery.”

“Oh?” Stanley prompted.

Stanford put a hand on his chest under his trench coat. “Stanley, do you remember when we were kids? Do you remember our plans to sail around the world on a boat?”

Stanley couldn’t even speak.

“I think I’ve heard of some anomalies near the Arctic Ocean. But I can’t make it alone.”

“Are you sayin’ you need someone to help you sail around the world in the adventure of a lifetime?” Stanley finally managed to say

“I don’t need just _someone_ to come with me, Stanley.” Stanford drew out a photo from his trench coat and offered it to him. Stanley looked it over. Two curly-haired, sunburnt kids stood before a broken, salt-worn sailboat with the painted words “Stan o’ War” on it. “Will you give me a second chance?”

Stanley looked down at the old photo and then up at Stanford. “You think we’ll find treasure? And babes?”

“Heh! I’d say there’s a high probability.”

Stanley shrugged nonchalantly. “Well, if someone has to make sure you don’t get eaten by the Kraken then… yeah.”

Stanford grinned. “Now all we have to do is find a way to fund the ship, eh?”

Stanley gestured to the table where the treasure chest still lay. “I think I have _that_ covered.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **JOURNAL 3**  
>  Parallel Earth Dimensions  
> "Unlike the dimensions I've already described, many dimensions in the multiverse are "Parallel Earths," very similar to my dimension, but with a few major differences."
> 
> August 29th  
> "When Stanley and I were kids, we would often read tales of the Sibling Brothers--about two boys who dedicated their lives to exploring mysteries together. (For the record: The butler stole the capers. OBVIOUSLY.) With a new anomaly to investigate, I've been thinking of those tales more and more lately. Dipper is no longer my apprentice, and Fiddleford has a genuine career as an inventor ahead of him--so I think it's time for the Pines Twins to join forces again. At least, I hope so. I haven't discussed my plan with Stan yet. But if I know my brother, he will jump at the chance to find "money and babes.""
> 
>  **Weirdmaggedon 3: Take Back the Falls** (or Weirdmaggedon 4: Somewhere in the Woods)
> 
> "Stanley, I need to talk to you." _Ford leads him behind the Shack._ "I didn't wanna say anything with everyone listening, but we've got a problem. Weirdmageddon has been contained but I'm detecting some strange new anomalies near the Arctic Ocean." _Ford holds up his watch and shows a holographic map of the world. Little red circles appear in different places on the map._ "I want to go investigate it but I think I might be too old to go it alone."  
>  "Are you sayin' you need someone to help you sail around the world in the adventure of a lifetime?"  
> "I don't just want someone to come with me Stanley, I want it to be you." _Ford gives him a photo of them as kids posing on the Stan-o-War._ "Will you give me a second chance?"  
>  "You think we'll find treasure? And babes?"  
> "Heh! I'd say there's a high probability." ~Ford and Stan (respectively), Season 2, Episode 20 (or Episode 21 if you count Weirdmaggedon 3 being split into "3: Take Back the Falls" and "4: Somewhere in the Woods")
> 
>  
> 
> *chokes* This totally wasn't made because I wanted them to make up and have fluff. What are you talking about? This was totally centered around Mabel beating up unicorns.


	18. A Better World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plans have been formed.

_Dipper_

Dipper picked up his things and helped organize them with Mabel. They hadn’t gotten too many things- just a few spare clothes and some more yarn for Mabel. Stanford had attempted to gift the “Sibling Brothers” books to him, but Dipper declined. The books were there in the future, old and dusty but still readable.

Mabel picked up her bag and slung it over her shoulder like a backpack. Mabel held out her hand. The two walked down the stairs and outside. Stanford looked over the Bottomless Pit, a timer in his hands. Fiddleford stood beside him. Stanley, arms crossed and a severe look of pretend-boredom on his features to hide whatever clashing emotions he felt, rocked on his heels nearby. When he spotted the two kids, he grinned. “Hey! You two all packed up?”

“Yep!” Mabel patted her shoulder. “We got everything!”

Stanford smiled. “Good on you! I’m sorry we couldn’t find a cure you for you, Dipper.”

Dipper looked at Stanford and then his still-deer body. Dipper sighed, smiled, and turned back to Stanford. “You know what, Grunkle Ford? I spent so much time obsessing over this cure… I’m okay with it–even if I have to be a deer forever. It’s just who I am, now.”

Mabel laughed. “Yeah! You’ll always be my awesome bro, even if you have four legs.”

Dipper laughed and ran his fingers through his hair. “Yeah. I mean, at least you turned back into a human. I’m okay with four legs, but not you with no legs and a fish tail.”

“Being a mermaid was awesome!” Mabel denied. “Talking to the fish was so co–Dipper!”

Dipper jumped. “What? Wha-?” Dipper stopped himself. His hand–which was still on his head–curled into his hair. Where there had been bumps that would soon become antlers was just his scalp. He put his hands on his head. His long, floppy ears were gone, replaced now by his round, regular human ears. Dipper gasped and hopped about. Then, he couldn’t feel his lower half. Dipper turned around and stumbled in a backwards circle, finally landing on his back as his back legs disappeared, his hooves turned into feet, and he was his regular old self–down to his noodle legs, shorts, and tennis shoes.

“DIPPER!” Mabel cried. “You’re a human again!”

“I-I’m a human!” Dipper sat up and patted his legs. “I-I’m a human. I’m back! I’m back! YEAH!” Dipper jumped to his feet and whooped. “Take THAT Gravity Falls! Dipper is back! Yeah!” He howled and hopped on his feet, only to fall onto his back. Stanley, Stanford, and Fiddleford laughed. Dipper threw his arms up. “I’m a human! Yeah!” He sat up. “Now I just need to get used to using two legs again.”

“Do you know what this calls for?” Mabel prompted.

Dipper stood up. “What?”

“Celebration sweaters!” Mabel squealed and dug through their bag. She pulled out a blue sweater and a pink sweater, the blue one being for Dipper. Then, she heaved out a large hot pink sweater, a deep blue one, and a lime green one. “For you guys! Come on!”

Dipper wormed into his and looked down. “Oh! Cool!”

Stanley looked over his hot pink sweater. “I was wondering what was taking you so long on that sweater you were making.”

Mabel giggled. “I made one for everyone to celebrate!”

“Wow.” Stanford looked over his own deep blue one. “You made one for me, too. This was before you even got here?”

Mabel nodded, grinning ear-to-ear. “I couldn’t just make a sweater for Dipper and me! They’re reunion sweaters! Everyone gets one!”

“That’s mighty nice of ya, Mabel.” Fiddleford slipped on his lime-green sweater. “It’s wonderfully made.”

 

_Mabel_

Mabel giggled and laughed, Dipper glued to her side. She looked up at the three of the men. Stanley stood, relaxed, and grinned a smile wider than he’d held in years. A hot pink sweater with “LEE” stitched over his heart donned him. Square on his back, the word “STAN” was in the same color. Beside him stood Stanford. The rings gone from his bright eyes and his hair finally tamed, he leaned on Stanley and matched his smile. His own sweater was a deep blue with “FORD” stitched on it and “STAN” in the back. Fiddleford, hanging on the edge, watched them with soft, round eyes. His own shirt was a tame green-brown with a raccoon on the front.

“Okay, guys! Picture time!” she announced and ran up to them. Dipper, pulled up tight to her side in a hug, grinned into the camera. His own sweater was a pale blue with a pink hourglass. Mabel’s sweater was pink with a blue hourglass. Stanley walked around and hooked an arm around Stanford and a hand on Fiddleford’s shoulder. But, right as she went to take the picture, Stanley’s arms moved.

_Click!_

“Stanley!”

Stanley, laughing, held his brother and new best friend in headlocks. Stanford managed to worm his way out and put his hands on his hips. Stanley let go of Fiddleford and shrugged. “What?”

Stanford brushed his hair back. Stanley ruffled his hair. This only started another fight. The definition of fight between the men had changed significantly over the past few days. Now, instead of tripping over wires or crashing into things, they wrestled over green grass. Instead of throwing insults and escalating a sky-high argument, they growled and laughed and called each other dumb names.

Mabel made a little noise Dipper could swear only dogs could hear. _Click!_ Mabel’s camera went off again. “Scrapbookortunity!”

Fiddleford crossed his arms. “Now, here Ah thought Stanford’s life would calm down a bit, maybe involve less wrestlin’ and runnin’ about.”

Mabel giggled and shook her head. “Nu-uh! They’re friends again!”

Fiddleford chuckled. “They sure are. You’re a real special little lady, Mabel. Ah don’t know how you managed it. You two do good, alright?”

Dipper nodded. “We’ll try and make things right between Grunkle Ford and Grunkle Stan.”

“Is he a good great uncle?”

Dipper smiled. “They both are!”

“They’re the greatest great uncles!” Mabel announced.

 

_Stanford_

“You’re such a child!” Stanford scolded, slipping out of Stanley’s grip.

“You’re such a stick-in-the-mud!” Stanley shot back.

“I’m _not!_ ” Stanford dodged another attack, only to find out it was a feign and get tackled. Stanley threw them both to the ground. Stanford tried to get out of his grasp, but found that it was not possible. The two wrestled in the dry-dirt, summer grass. Green blades of grass clung to their clothes and the knees of their jeans.

Eventually, Stanford became too tired to fight off his brother. So, he held up his hands. “Okay, okay! I give!”

“Already?” Stanley smirked. “You’re more of a wimp than I remember!”

“You’re more of a brute!” Stanford countered.

Stanley rolled his eyes, let go, and got up on his knees. “Yeah, yeah- hey!” He gasped as Stanford bowled him over, using both Stanley’s imbalance and Stanford’s distance to knock him down.

“Gotcha!” Stanford declared.

“No fair! You surrendered!” Stanley mock-complained.

“No. I simply tricked you into thinki-ing-!” Stanford was pushed off and pinned again.

“You were saying?”

Stanford rolled his eyes. “Okay, okay. I surrender. I actually do, this time.”

Stanley let go of him and stood up. “I guess I can let you pass this time.”

Stanford pulled himself to his feet, ignoring the new soreness in his arms. He glanced at Mabel, Dipper, and Fiddleford. Fiddleford looked quite amused by the whole thing. Dipper looked away, as if pretending he didn’t see them playing. Mabel gave no pretense of pretending not to see them playing. Instead, she had that excited smile Stanford swore had to hurt. Stanford glanced back at Stanley and made his way back to the Pit. He brushed out the blades of grass in his hair as he walked. “Well, now that I, uh, took care of the interruption, I think it’s high time to finish preparing to leave.”

Dipper chuckled. “We’re already ready to leave, Ford.”

“You are? Er, well, right. Yes.” Stanford nodded and stopped next to them. “I knew that.”

“No, you didn’t!” Stanley accused, setting his elbow on Stanford’s shoulder.

 

_Stanley_

Stanley set his elbow on Stanford’s shoulder. He was quickly shrugged off. The laughter that still hung in the air warmed him better than any heater. For so long, it felt like he was in the winter. Even when he was with “friends”, that chill never really left him. Even with the heater on or sweating in the hot Columbian sun, nothing drove it away completely. But now, it was gone. That same joy he held when they were kids had come back. Even though it was a bit painful to see the duo go, it was for the best. It was for all of them. If they were right and Stanley had spent thirty years looking for his brother… Stanley needed a hug. Stanford needed sense talked into them. Those Pine twins were the perfect ones to do it.

Dipper looked at the watch strapped to his wrist as well as the timer Stanford had given him. Mabel looked over her phone with pictures on it. The time tape was held gingerly in her hands. Fiddleford rocked on his heels. Stanford clasped his hands behind his back. It was time to leave, but no one was really in any type of hurry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Monsterfalls Complete Info & FAQ**  
> Do they stay monsters forever in this AU?  
> "The cure is actually something the individual has to figure out. _Fluvius Cantatis_ is a tricky phenomenon, as it changes you into a monster or creature shaped to your own personality. That being said, you have to find your own cure through some sort of personal revelation. Once those conditions have been satisfied, the effects will finally lift and you’ll return back to normal. But figuring out your cure isn’t an easy task… "  
> [~Winterbolt on Monsterfalls](http://winterbolt.tumblr.com/post/64514008525/monsterfalls-complete-info-faq)
> 
>  
> 
> If you're curious, if Stanford, Fiddleford, and Stanley had been cursed at this time, they'd be human again. So, naturally, Dipper gets his reward for being awesome! Also, Dipper's stitches were on his lower half. Since his lower half dissappeared, the stitches did, too. Don't ask me why he has shorts on. Shhhh  
> Also, the Stan twins just _had_ to fight again. Look at them. Vicious. Really hate each other's guts. Can't trust them around each other. /trying not to laugh but failing miserably


	19. Take a Trip. Find It. It’s Out There, Somewhere in the Woods. Waiting.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the end.

_Dipper and Mabel_

Mabel held the time tape tight her hands. Dipper took a deep breath and stared into the inky blackness of the Bottomless Pit. “Do you think this will work?”

Stanford stood beside him. “I know it will work. This is a small wormhole. I don’t know if humans will be able to pass through it, but perhaps if you use that time machine at the right moment, you can pass through the wormhole and go back to–or maybe create–an alternate reality.”

Mabel looked down at the time machine. “When do we use it?”

“I gave Dipper the timer. Seeing as you said that the time it takes for you to go through the wormhole and come back out the top is roughly twenty-one minutes, you should be at the very ‘bottom’ or ‘center’ of the wormhole at roughly ten minutes and thirty seconds. There, if you use the time machine, you might be able to use it as a sort of natural portal.”

“Yeah, yeah, science, science.” Stanley patted Mabel on the shoulder. “You’re going to be just fine, Sweet-heart. Both of you!” He pushed down on Dipper’s hat and ruffled his hair, causing the boy to duck and laugh. “Say hi to us in the future.”

Mabel grinned. “I will! I’ll make sure you two make up and everything will be better!”

Dipper nodded. “Now that I know what cures this curse, maybe you guys from the future will be cured, too!” He took a deep breath and held out his hand. “Okay. Ready, Mabel?”

Mabel took his hand. “Heh. Nope.” She looked down. “Let’s go.”

Dipper nodded and counted in his head. _Three…_

Dipper shuffled his feet and tensed. _Two…_

Mabel’s grip tightened. _One…_

They jumped.

Dipper looked at his watch and held an arm around Mabel. Mabel hugged him back and looked up. She watched the figures above shrink as she and Dipper fell into the black. Dipper gently took the time machine from her, allowing Mabel to hold onto him with both hands.

_Beep-beep! Beep-beep!_

_Snap!_

_Vrrrp._

Mabel yelled as they appeared a few feet above the late summer ground. They both fell with a _huff._ The two looked up–or, in Dipper’s case, back as he was on his back. Behind them, sagging with age and use, was the Mystery Shack. Grunkle Stan, perched on his place in the roof, started as the kids appeared out of nowhere.

Dipper gasped, “It worked?”

“It worked!” Mabel howled and threw her arms into the air. “It worked, it worked!”

Dipper yelled and jumped up. “It worked!” The kids laughed and chanted their victory. Their fears melted into nothingness as they cheered and whooped.

With a great flap of his wings, Grunkle Stan was on the ground nearby. “What the blazes? You’re cured?”

Dipper and Mabel looked up at him. Mabel squealed her mosquito-squeal and launched herself at Grunkle Stan. She coiled her arms around him and buried her face in his stony belly. “Grunkle Stan! I missed you!”

Dipper, laughing, hugged him, too. Dipper looked up at him. “It’s a long story.”

The door opened. Out came their sphynx great uncle. Grunkle Ford, the tip of his tail twitching and ears flicked forward, walked out. “I just detected a large flux… Dipper? You’re cured?”

Dipper nodded. “Yeah!” He bounced up and down and then yelped and fell back. “I’m still getting used to having two legs again.”

“We went on a time-travel adventure!” Mabel announced, finally letting go of her great uncle. “We got to meet you guys from the past!”

“Yeah!” Dipper got up. “We came back to the Shack, but in 1982.”

“I got to knit sweaters and sing songs–”

“-I got a teleporter and we found Mr. McGucket–”

“-and we got to fix everything!” Mabel threw her hands in the air.

Grunkle Stan blinked and scratched his head. “Uh… you mind sayin’ that in English?”

Mabel giggled. “Yeah!”

Dipper nodded, a serious expression coming to his face. “We need to. I think I found a way to cure you two.”

“But first: story time!” Mabel announced.

Dipper nodded. “Yes. That’s very important.”

Grunkle Ford cleared his throat. “And you are certain you found a way to cure _us_ as well?”

Dipper smiled. “Absolutely.”

“Good.” Grunkle Ford smiled. “Let me get my journal and we can start on this story.” Tail flicking back and forth at a normal rhythm and wings close to his back, Grunkle Ford walked back to the Mystery Shack.

“And you two have some good explaining to do appearing in the middle of the yard like that,” Grunkle Stan agreed as he herded the two inside.

Mabel, bouncing about as if she’d just taken a few shots of Mabel Juice, giggled and ran inside. “You bet!”

 

_Stanford and Stanley_

The trio had taken a moment to stand at the edge of the Bottomless Pit. Ten something minutes had passed and they knew the kids were gone. They’d traveled forward in time thirty years and had by now reunited with their own Stanford and Stanley. For a moment, the trio stood, not out of any pretense of seeing the kids come back up, though that was their excuse. The kids, despite only staying for just a little over a week, had changed their lives. Stanford and Stanley were brothers and had always been brothers. But now they were best friends again. Fiddleford destroyed the memory gun permanently as well as the blueprints for it. They wouldn’t be affected by that any time soon.

Twenty-one minutes passed.

Thoughts went back to the portal. So, the scientists modified and “cleaned” it. The portal was no longer set firmly to appear in the Nightmare Realm. It could go anywhere in the multiverse. Yet, as the scientists gazed upon their creation, only one thought came to them. They turned to each other and said “I quit.” The elevator was put out of service, power shut off to the basement, and the entrance sealed and painted over. With the portal behind them and Bill warded off, and eventually the shape-shifter hunted and killed, their course changed.

Fiddleford went on to fulfil his plans of making that weird portable computer technology. Stanley, smelling the profit, took it and found a way to sell it. Fiddleford quickly became one of the richest men on the planet selling technology Stanford had advised against using. Though Stanley had a very good stake in the business, he let it go- for the most part. He kept a share and still got a slice of the pie. But what did he use that slice to do? He funded the _Stan o’ War II._ Any thoughts Stanford had of becoming this world-famous scientist had faded into the woodwork in the wake of chasing a dream the brothers had built as kids.

Over the years, the three men pursued what they’d wanted in life and succeeded. Even as their hair turned gray and wrinkles formed in their skin, the duo were an unstoppable pair of adventurers. Fiddleford continued to not only run the computer business, but create robots and tech like the world had never seen.

Many nights, as Stanford put down his glasses and readied for bed, he’d look down and see an old picture snuggly fit on his desk. Three men in their thirties, smiling and laughing, held onto each other. Custom sweaters stood out amongst the dull greens and browns and grays of the Shack. Two kids, one a boy and one a girl, stood with their arms around each other, grinning just as wide as the men, and holding the camera for them all.

Over the years, Bill stopped bothering them. Stanford was skeptical, but Stanley pointed out that, after Stanford had successfully encrypted their minds and shielded their home and ship, Bill was losing ground. Bill couldn’t possess them due to the fact that he couldn’t read their thoughts. He couldn’t find a way to attack them out at sea or at home as they had Bill-proofed it. Bill couldn’t use the portal because they’d recalibrated it. Any nightmares Bill gave him, Stanford had grown accustom to. Stanley pointed out that they were way too much trouble for Bill. Why go through the trouble of attacking them when there was probably some other universe already under Bill’s spell? But it’s not like they should worry. After all, Mabel and Dipper were ready for Bill and, with alternate Stanford and alternate Stanley having so much experience and now working together, there was a chance that they could defeat Bill forever. In fact, maybe that’s why they hadn’t seen Bill in twenty something years. The kids found a way to defeat him.

Thirty years after they stood by the Bottomless Pit saying their farewells, the Stan twins were in Oregon again. Though Stanford had long since given the deed to the Shack over to his best friend, Fiddleford let them stay at the house as if it was still their home. Now the two, bearing ancient sweaters that still somehow fit, stood by the road.

A bus rolled over the road and hissed to a stop by the bus station. The doors opened, revealing a set of fraternal twins. The girl hopped out of the bus, a bag in one hand. A unicorn sticker was stuck to her cheek. She looked around with wide eyes and a mile-wide smile Stanford and Stanley would be hard pressed not to recognize. She laughed and skipped away from the bus. “We’re here!”

The boy, a brown, maple-leaf hat covering the celestial birthmark on his forehead and one hand holding his bag, was more careful as he walked into the bus stop. He looked around and then, as his gaze fell upon his great uncle, he smiled. “Hey, Great Uncle Stan and Ford!”

“Grunkle Stan! Grunkle Ford!” Mable cried, turning her attention to them.

“It’s great to see you again, Dipper and Mabel,” Stanford agreed.

“Welcome to Gravity Falls, kiddos!” Stanley announced, stepping forward to accept a hug from the girl and to give the boy a noogie.

_Welcome to Gravity Falls, indeed._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _"My sister tended to look on the bright side of things."_  
>  "Yay! Grass!"  
>  _"But I was having a hard time getting used to our new surroundings."_ ~Dipper and Mabel, Season 1, Episode 1 "Tourist Trapped"
> 
>  _"If you've ever taken a road trip through the Pacific Northwest, you've probably seen a bumper sticker for a place called Gravity Falls."_ ... _"It's not on any maps, and most people have never heard of it. Some people think it's a myth. But if you're curious, don't wait. Take a trip. Find it. It's out there somewhere in the woods. Waiting."_  
>  ~Dipper, Season 2, Episode 20: "Wierdmageddon Part 3: Take Back the Falls" (aka: Episode 21: "Weirdmageddon Part 4: Somewhere in the Woods")
> 
>  **Journal 3: "August 29"**  
>  "Dipper is no longer my apprentice, and Fiddleford has a genuine career as an inventor ahead of him--so I think it's time for the Pines Twins to join forces again. At least, I hope so. I haven't discussed my idea with Stan yet. But if I know my brother, he will jump at the chance to find money and babes."  
> ~Stanford, Journal 3.
> 
> Weep-woop! Looka that! A happy ending for all! And, 30 years in the future, guess who comes to Gravity Falls to visit BOTH of their Grunkles? :D  
> Don't you just love how everything ties in at the end? Also, one more chapter to go. Wonder what it holds! :O In the last chapter, I'll show something special.


	20. Where it All Began

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything has a beginning...

_Mystery Shack, 618 Gopher Road, Gravity Falls, Oregon, United States, North America, Monday, August 13 th, 2012, 11:30:25 AM, Pacific Time Zone_

Dipper paced the length of the room. He didn’t pay attention to where he went. His hooves seemed to step in the right place at the right time.

Mabel, fully adjusted to being human again, hopped into their room and ran to Dipper’s side. “Dipper!”

Dipper stopped pacing. “Yeah?”

Mabel’s smile fell a bit. “Wendy, Soos, and I were just about to have a dance party! Come on!”

“I can’t dance, remember?” Dipper prompted, looking down at his legs. He’d been used to using four legs after about a month or so or having them. Although being able to go where he wanted without looking at his surroundings was cool and having extreme senses was awesome, he’d much rather be a human.

“Don’t look so down, Dipper,” Mabel begged. “Please! Come on, dance with us!”

“No!” Dipper’s voice was a bit harsher than he had intended. He calmed down a bit. “No, I can’t dance. I have to think of a cure!” He stamped his hoof. “There has to be something I can do!” His gaze turned to the window.

“Dipper, just let Grunkle Ford do it. He’s working on it, too.”

“I can find a cure!” Dipper snapped. “I know I can! I just- just have to keep looking and thinking!”

“You really need to relax and have some fun. You’ve just been grumpy all the time.”

“Easy for you to say. _You’re_ a human. Everyone’s a human except for Grunkle Ford, Grunkle Stan, and me.” Dipper’s gaze fell to the Bottomless Pit. There, a very familiar man stood. Rather, a man in very familiar silver clothes stood on the precipice of the Bottomless Pit.

Dipper narrowed his eyes and walked forward so that he was touching the window. “Is that… a time traveler?”

The man fiddled with something and vanished. A few seconds later, he was back in the same spot. He gasped and patted the small fire on his suit. After a few seconds, he looked about, hid something of his under a bush nearby, and hopped into the Bottomless Pit.

Dipper gasped. “A time traveler! And he left his stuff by the Bottomless Pit!” With a grin, he turned and bounded out of the room. He hopped down the stairs and slipped on the linoleum. Still, he managed to get outside and to the small wormhole. Mabel chased after him.

“This is perfect!” He knelt by the bush and picked up a toolbelt and a wristwatch. A time tape was hooked onto the belt. “Oh my gosh… time travel! That’s it!” He laughed. “If I travel back in time, I can prevent myself from finding the stream and avoid this whole water mess!”

Mabel arrived by his side. “I dunno, Dipper… what if you, like, mess up something?”

Dipper glanced at her. “Mabel, I’m going to fix one small mistake. Come on. Time travel adventure!” As he spoke, he slipped on the wristwatch, picked up the time tape, and hid the toolbelt in the brush.

Mabel seemed to consider this point. “But… what about Grunkle Ford? Dipper, remember what happened at the fair? I almost lost Waddles forever! What if no one makes up to each other? Remember how Wendy and Robbie were kinda friends again because Robbie made sure Wendy didn’t attack someone since he was a zombie and she couldn’t hurt him? They won’t be friends anymore if we go back!”

“I won’t miss Robbie.” Dipper shrugged and fiddled with the device. The TAEPS symbol and words were at the top of the screen along with the current date, time, time zone, and location. “Look, I’ll just fix _one_ mistake, okay? Then none of this will happen and I’ll put the time tape back and everything.”

“What does that watch thingy do?” Mabel looked over his arm at the watch.

“Tells the time, for all I know. It might be handy.” Dipper held it up and looked over it. “I should probably pack a few things just in case.” He turned and bounded back to the house. Mabel followed.

Dipper scooped up a few things–his notebook, some pens, and a copy of Journal 3–and looked over himself. Mabel hurriedly grabbed her bag and scooped a few things inside of it. Dipper looked up. “So, you’re coming with?”

“Well, dio! I can’t let you go on an awesome time travel adventure without me!” Mabel laughed and threw on her bag. “Where to first?”

“Well, I found the stream a little over a month ago, so…” Dipper took out the time tape and measured the time it would take to go back to his former time.

“What does that watch thingy do?” Mabel held onto his vest. “Maybe, since that measuring thingy can make us go back and forward in time, the watch can teleport us somewhere!”

“I doubt… that…” Dipper hesitated. He didn’t let go of the time tape. “Actually, that makes a _lot_ of sense.”

“Let’s try it out!” Mabel squeaked and held up his wrist. “Gravity Falls Lake!”

“W-wait!” Dipper let go of the time tape.

The watch’s feminine voice piped up, _“Gravity Falls Lake.”_

_Snap!_

_Vrrrp._

Dipper and Mabel appeared on the island where they’d found the Gobblewonker. Dipper looked around him, eyes round in shock. “Mabel, it… it worked! We teleported somewhere else! We teleported!” Dipper whooped and bounced on his hooves. “Okay, now to the stream! …wait, where was the stream?” Dipper hesitated. “Uh… it might have been… north of the Mystery Shack?” He held up the watch. “Mystery Shack!”

_“Mystery Shack.”_

_Vrrrp._

Dipper looked about. Yep. They were in the backyard of the Mystery Shack. Dipper grinned. “This is going better than I thought it would.”

Mabel frowned but followed him as he walked. “This isn’t a good idea. Everything will go back to normal and no one would learn their lesson and-and we wouldn’t help Mr. McGucket and we wouldn’t help Soos find his girlfriend!” Mabel’s eyes went round as she counted out their adventures over the past month. “We wouldn’t go to that party at Pacifica’s mansion and let everyone into the party. We won’t get Grunkle Ford back!”

Dipper wavered in step. “You’re right. I… didn’t think about that.” Dipper nodded. “But that’s okay! Now that we know what went wrong, we can fix them _faster!_ See?” He grinned and changed his walk to a hop. “We’ll know that Grunkle Stan has a portal and we can help him! Maybe the government guys won’t take him away!”

“No! We can’t go back!” Mabel ran after him and attempted to take the time tape.

“Whoa! Mabel!” Dipper stepped back to avoid stepping on her feet. He raised his hand, but she caught him. She grabbed the time tape and unrolled it. Dipper grabbed her hand. “Wait, Ma–”

_Snap!_

They were… back? Dipper looked around him. “Did we actually move forward in time?” He looked down at his watch and flicked his ears forward. “Wait! We did! But we’re a few days too far. Come on. Give me- Mabel!” Mabel unrolled the time tape. He grabbed it and pulled it back. Mabel held onto it. This only caused the time tape to extend farther back into history.

“Mystery Shack!” Mabel ordered.

_“Mystery Shack.”_

_Snap!_

_Vrrp._

The kids appeared in the front yard of the Mystery Shack. Only, it wasn’t summer… or old. Snow fluttered around the Shack. The paint on the roof was nearly dry. Dipper and Mabel gaped at the Shack, which was newer and didn’t sag under the weight of time. Both of them ran to the window and peeked inside.

Inside, Grunkle Stan led a bunch of tourists through his makeshift museum. They didn’t recognize any of the props. Grunkle Stan wore some stupid yellow shirt covered in red question marks. His curly brown hair was cut off to be shorter and he wore a grand smile. “Here we have the rare and elusive, uh, koi-mate!” There was a taxidermy statue of a chimp with a koi fish head.

Dipper pursed his lips. “We went too far back.”

Mabel took the time tape again. “Okay! Forward in time!” she announced and unrolled the time tape.

“Wait, we don’t know–!”

_Snap!_

The two looked around. Broken buildings sprinkled around them and dust dominated the air. People ran around, screaming, yelling, trying to flee the giant floating baby.

“Too far!” Dipper gasped. He took the time tape and unrolled it.

“Where are we?” Mabel prompted and gasped. “Oh! Are we in that weird movie with the dinosaur in Japan?”

_“Tokyo, Japan.”_

_Snap!_

_Vrrp._

Now… they were probably back in 2012. But the signs around them were all in a different language and the heavy throng of people that walked around them were much different than the scant people that wandered Gravity Falls.

Dipper groaned. “Great. Now we’re in Japan! Mabel, be serious!”

This started the argument. As Mabel tried to go back to present day and Dipper tried to go back to June, they hopped through time and space. Tokyo, Japan in 2012, Gravity Falls, Oregon, in 1983, Piedmont, California in 1999, Glass Shard Beach, New Jersey in 1962–which neither could explain how they got _there_ –Alamagordo, New Mexico, in 1982, Paris, France, in 1789–again how they got there was a mystery–New York City, New York, in 1788, Boston, Massachusetts, in 1773, somewhere in Europe in 1,999,992 BC, and, finally, San Francisco, California, in 1862.

Dipper held up the time machine, which was getting very warm. He grimaced as thunder crackled overhead. _Rain._ “Mabel, this is ridiculous!”

Mable sighed. “Ugh! I just wanna go home. This is dumb!”

Dipper looked at the time travel device. “Actually, I think, uh…”

“Yes!” Mabel took the time tape and snapped it again. “Gravity Falls, Oregon!”

“Let me do it!”

_“Gravity Falls, Oregon.”_

_Snap!_

_Vrrp._

Dipper stumbled in his landing, four legs splaying to catch himself. Where were they? He sneezed to attempt to rid his nose of the salty 1862 California air. He looked about and then sighed. “Oh, good. We’re back in Oregon. …right?”

Mabel stood up straight and looked about. “Uh… well… oh! I remember those squirrels!” She pointed up. Her grimace had been replaced with a large grin. Above them, two squirrels chattered together. “I’m an amazing matchmaker.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end! What, you didn't think I was going to leave you hanging, did you? ;)
> 
> Fun fact: This was supposed to be chapter one. But since I got impatient and this just wasn't coming to me, I decided to make it a prologue. I wrote it almost halfway through the actual fanfiction. Haha
> 
> Also: here's something special for everyone who went on this journey with me! <3 But make sure you've read the entire thing because it basically summarizes everything and shows off all the major plot points. Find it [here!](https://sta.sh/01bzs22ivse)
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>    
> [Wattpad](https://www.wattpad.com/myworks/127981785-see-you-earlier) I'll be uploading Monday/Wednesday/Friday here. Since at least one person's interested in it, this one will be updated more frequently.  
> [Fanfiction.net](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12716192/1/See-You-Earlier) Since this version is a bit different (and I don't care much for fanfiction.net) then the updates will be scattered and without a schedule here.

**Author's Note:**

> It's the end. Thank you for reading!


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